


Introduction to the Dungeon: Now I'm Here

by shewasagaystripper



Series: The Dungeon [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: An alternative form of hurt/comfort that is hsfhshfsdhf, Anal Sex, And then there's Brian, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Because he is the only top in Queen, Bondage, Breathplay, Butt Plugs, Comfort, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Don't @ me this is a fact, Flogging, He could be tied up and half choked and still would be the one issuing the demands, He is very enthusiastic but has a lot to learn, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add to this once more chapters will come up, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Punishment, Punishment and Reward, Run by Master John R. Deacon, Sex Toys, Spanking, Starting off with Roger, Sub!Freddie, Sub!Roger, Sweet baby Brian, The Dungeon, This is his domain, This is the Dungeon, Together with his three (3) slaves, Well - Freeform, Who is new to the Dungeon and to the BDSM Scene in general, a good thing that he gets to learn it from the best out there, a whooole lot, ahem, because it's not as if Master John would allow anyone to take over from him, but what can one do, no honestly Freddie and Roger are the best of friends but the worst of examples, oh yeah!!! the tags, okay listen up, perhaps flog them, sub!Brian, the diva in the dungeon, then there's Freddie, top!John, try to issue the demands, who does nothing but provoke him because he's a pain slut like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 15:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18803065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewasagaystripper/pseuds/shewasagaystripper
Summary: It's always the quiet ones...ORBrian is the newest addition to Master John Deacon's BDSM Dungeon, and along the way discovers a completely different side of both his bandmates ánd himself.





	Introduction to the Dungeon: Now I'm Here

**Author's Note:**

> Hi dear people! Okay, so I know it’s been approximately 69420 years since @ronniesshoes and me decided that we needed to write a series in which all of Queen’s bottoms submit to the one and only Top in the band - which is Deaky, and which is non-negociable, don’t @ us) but it’s finally here! It’s taken an ungodly amount of time and effort and praying for forgiveness, but Part 1 of The Dungeon is up! I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I had fun writing this, and please let me know what you think of it! I enjoy discussing everything, from the storyline to hypothesis of what’s going to happen to characterisation and headcanons or whatever.
> 
> Notes and warnings: This fic will live and breathe BDSM and BDSM-related themes. Although everything they play is SSC (safe, sane, and consensual), it will include corporal punishment, rough sex, strong language, etc. Please read only if you are willing to read such content.

The Dungeon Part I: Introduction to the Dungeon (John/Brian/Freddie/Roger) It’s always the quiet ones…

‘And you’ll be sitting here,’ John emphasised as he pushed Brian, after having dragged him around the dusky bedroom by his arm, into the armchair in the corner of the chamber. Brian groaned softly when his naked backside landed on the hardwood seat of the furniture, shifting around uncomfortably when the butt plug was forced deeper inside of him the moment he came down. He still had to get used to the strange but not unpleasant sensation that the sex toy caused, but much time to think about the feeling he did not get when John immediately brought out the leather straps that he was going to use to secure his position with. The well-known black leather and shiny metal buckles made Brian shiver in an indistinguishable mixture of fear and anticipation, never knowing what to expect from yet another session with John in absolute, unquestionable and unconditional control.

‘Arms against the handrails,’ John dictated, and Brian didn’t even have to think a second before obeying; his arms instantly slipped towards their assigned position, watching as the younger man’s hands closed themselves around his wrists, pinning them down as he wrapped the thin leather belts around them, tying him tightly up to the wooden handrails of the armchair and securing the straps firmly.

‘You like to watch, don’t you, Brian?’ John purred at him while securing the older man to the chair, and Brian nodded, insecurely. Being a new member to these sessions, he didn’t dare to say or move around more than absolutely necessary, so he tried to inform John about his state and emotions with careful gestures, breathing silently and even blinking carefully while letting John tie him up.

‘Can you move your arms?’ John asked him once he had buckled up the last clasps, and Brian immediately went to test his question. He tried to bring up his arms, but found that he couldn’t do more than tense his muscles a little if he clamped his hands into fists. The fit around his entire lower arm was tight, but not uncomfortable, so he shook his head softly in response. Unfortunately, he soon found that this wasn’t enough for the bassist, and he gasped when John reached out to grasp his chin between his thumb and forefinger to force it up, and with that, forcing him to look into his eyes that held a strange, dark glint in them. Brian found himself trembling under his gaze; John’s eyes seemed empty but held a dark glint at the same time, but most of all, those eyes displayed power. The desire to be listened to, the wish to be obeyed was visible in them – desires that Brian aimed to fulfil, which was why it shocked him to find that he was not living up to John’s standards.

‘I know you still have to get into this, but I have to assert my authority right away. Look at me when you give me an answer – which has to be spoken, as I’ve told you before,’ John said dangerously, not letting go of Brian’s chin yet. Instead, he brought it closer to his own completely neutral and yet immensely hostile face, and Brian shivered, his bottom lip starting to tremble. He was trying so hard to do everything right, but it turned out to be harder than expected to please John, who demanded absolute obedience, absolute surrender, absolute submission, absolute devotion to his ways.

Just when Brian was afraid his voice was going to let him down, and with that, let John’s angry words and relentless hands rain down on him, he was momentarily saved by a voice coming from the other side of the bedroom.

‘Master, please. Don’t be so hard on him,’ In the heat of the moment, he had almost forgotten about the rest of the crew in the bedroom, but now he was thinking about it, it kind of comforted him to know that he wasn’t the only one being tied up and completely subdued to the will of their bassist. It still was kind of awkward to face the naked, tied-up bodies of his fellow band members, but the thought of not being alone in this made him feel a little safer. John’s rules were sometimes closer to capricious, whimsical impulses than to established bedroom laws, so he was glad to not be alone in this. 

Though Brian was relieved that John wasn’t focussing on him for the moment, he immediately lost this feeling of facilitation when John stood up from the ground in one quick movement, his furious glance resting between the two other men.

‘What was that?’ he growled darkly, and even though no one dared to speak, he turned to Roger, who was even more tied up than Brian was. While only Brian’s arms hand been fixed against the chair he had been placed on, Roger’s hands were cuffed together on his back, both his feet were held together by manacles as well, and a belt around his lower back prevented him from moving off the desk John had pushed him onto. ‘You, Taylor,’ John added dangerously, and he strode over to the desk, picking up one of the riding crops that were displayed on the bed as a mean of deterrence on his way there.

As John was standing in front of Roger, his eyes travelled over his naked, captive body, as if to find the best spots to hit him. He found these places instantly, because before Brian could do as much as blink, John had already raised the crop and let it crash down onto the small of Roger’s back, just below the place where his hands were tied together, a deafening sound of leather against flesh following instantly. Roger cried out in pain and his body writhed as much as the restrictions allowed – which wasn’t much – when John relentlessly hit his back multiple times before moving it down to strike his butt with the leathery end of the tool. A mixture of Roger’s cries and helpless begs (for mercy? For more? Brian wasn't sure) filled the room when John struck him multiple times in a row with a face that could almost be described as ‘neutral,’ if only the dark sparkle in his eyes hadn’t betrayed how much he enjoyed using this cruel tool on one of his slaves, especially after someone had crossed a strictly guarded border.

When Roger was panting and shaking with the strain and pleasure that being whipped without being able to move brought about, John grabbed the black leather collar around his neck, making Roger’s breath hitch in his throat at the unexpected movement.

‘What is the rule you just offended?’ John asked him calmly yet oh so dangerously, giving him a second to reply. When the answer held off, the younger man did not hesitate to lash out at the back of his thighs again with the crop he still held in his right hand. Brian had learned right away that it was a mistake to think that John could only focus on one aspect of punishment at the same time – John was a born multitasker, and on top of that, he was experienced enough to be able to interrogate them and grip one of their limbs while flogging them with unyielding accuracy all at the same time.

‘Ah! I- I’m sorry, master, please!’ Roger moaned wantonly. They all knew that Roger enjoyed this kind of treatment the most; though Freddie had been with them for almost just as long, Roger was the one who started this whole business with John years ago, and it was fair to say that the blond drummer was plainly addicted to the pain that would soon form an almost indistinguishable mixture with pleasure, assuming that those feelings were still two separate sensations to him.

‘Answer me. What rule is it?’ John growled, each word punctuated with a merciless slap against Roger’s body that made Brian bit his lip in both alarm and excitement. It was a weird and slightly uncomfortable feeling to be both worried and aroused by seeing one of your best friends being severely whipped by the other. But that was probably exactly what John and Roger wanted for him to feel, since they had both agreed to tie him up in this position and let Brian watch every slap, every lash, every helpless movement of Roger’s naked body.

‘N-no intervention or contact with each other,’ Roger managed, his back arching and heaving when John finished his session off with three more resounding smacks of the crop, leaving both Roger and Brian breathless – Roger because of the pleasurable pain in his back, and Brian by how painful and yet how good it looked to watch John asserting his authority on someone that way. He knew it was only a start, though; this was nothing more than a warming-up, an exercise to prepare both the torturer and his victims for the real work that had yet to come.

‘That’s right, so I suggest you comply with that rule from now off,’ John told him with a leer, and after a helplessly panted ‘yes, mister,’ John carelessly dropped the riding crop on the floor and went back to the person he had been focussing on before – Brian.

John knelt down in front of the shivering man, taking his chin between the iron grip of his fingers again. ‘A second and last chance before I won’t treat you so kindly anymore. Can you move your arms?’ John asked, each word punctuated with a short pause to give the question an even more threatening boost, and Brian didn’t even dare to think for a mere second before responding to him.

‘No,’ he whispered. ‘No, master,’ he quickly corrected himself in a squeak when John instantly cocked an indignant eyebrow at the improper answer. John stared intently at the guitarist for a few seconds that felt like literal hours before he spoke.

‘I know you’re quiet, but I don’t accept silence when I’m expecting an answer. And the next time you answer me with just one word, I’ll have you over the desk and let you feel what more I can do with a crop apart from flogging you with it. Understood?’ he asked, and even though he was crouching down in front of him, John held an enormous and unwavering amount of power over him. Brian could do nothing but nod, tears stinging behind his eyes.

‘Yes, master.’

‘That’s a good boy,’ John said, letting go of Brian’s chin and using his hand to give the captive man’s cheek a squeeze instead. Brian couldn’t tell for sure if it had been meant to console him; a comforting movement would have been expected to go along with the encouragement John had just given him, but the pinch of his cheek was a little too painful to pass for a soothing gesture. Brian could feel the skin growing red and swollen when John let go of it to move on with his task of making sure he would be restricted good enough to his standards before they were going to start for real.

‘Legs,’ was all John had to utter for Brian to press his legs back against the chair, not daring to do anything that might trigger him. John skilfully bound his ankles to the legs of the chair before he stood up, watching him intensely and studying the work he had executed. Brian felt awkward under his dark gaze; all his limbs were out of use due to their restriction to the chair and John had ridded him of every piece of clothing before they started, so he was immobile and stark-naked under his inspecting eyes.

‘That doesn’t look too bad, if I’m allowed to say so,’ John nodded to himself as he studied the ties and knots he had just fabricated. It sounded so typically him – no matter how empowered he was over their bodies and regardless of his right to do absolutely anything he pleased, he still remained humble, which only added up to the cool, calm and collected atmosphere he radiated and which sent shivers down Brian’s spine. It wasn’t like John to brag or to turn overconfident just because the rest of them couldn’t object against it anyway.

‘Well then,’ John said when Brian threatened to slip away in his thoughts. ‘You can sit here and watch the others getting flogged, but that would make it terribly boring for you, don’t you think?’ John asked, and Brian was glad that he did not seem to expect a response this time, because he had no idea how he had to answer that rhetorical question. He himself would not have minded simply being forced to watch as John flogged the others, but his master clearly had other plans for him in mind. And in all honesty… Just sitting here and doing nothing wasn’t as exciting as also ‘being taken care of,’ as Freddie would say. ‘So I was thinking about just a few more restrictions,’ John informed him as he walked over to the nightstand. Though his body left Brian’s personal space (as far as that existed when being tied up and dependant on someone else), John’s mental power did not vanish even the slightest. Everywhere he went, he was in charge of them, and no one dared to even think about question his authority by moving, speaking, or producing any other sound that might enrage him.

No one apart from Freddie, of course. When John faced away from him while looking for the right instruments of torture for Brian, Freddie grasped the chance to make contact with the guitarist with both hands. Or well, both hands… His hands were tied together above his head and attached to the bedpost, his feet fastened to the bedpost of the footboard of the bed, his naked body shivering in anticipation between these two wooden bars. Therefore, the only body part he was capable of moving was his head, and after having glanced at John to make sure he wasn’t looking, Freddie carefully brought his head up, which immediately caught Brian’s attention in the quietness and stillness of the bedroom.

Brian nearly gasped when he saw what Freddie was going, knowing that the frontman – and he himself as well, perhaps – would be punished relentlessly if John was to discover this small but forbidden act of insubmission. But Freddie would not have been Freddie if he hadn’t taken the risk that doing this brought along; just like in real life, the older man was all about risk-taking and being disobedient, and being punished for it by their master was probably more of a turn on to him than a warning. Therefore, it hardly surprised Brian that Freddie opened his mouth and mimed something at him that he couldn’t quite make out. Only when Freddie had repeated the silent words twice, Brian understood what he wanted to tell him.

It’s okay. I’m right here.

Brian glanced over at John, and upon seeing that he was still on his quest of the supplies he needed, he nodded weakly at the frontman, who flashed him a comforting wink before slowly letting his head sink back into the pillows and pretending as if nothing had been going on.

Unfortunately for them, it turned out that John knew better than that. Brian instantly realised that it was stupid to even think that he didn’t – John saw, heard and felt everything, always, no matter how far he was standing away from you and no matter was how engaged he was with other activities or even other people. Nothing went unseen under his dark eyes, nothing went unheard by his sharp ears, no single clench of muscles went unnoticed under his long, thin fingers. Their short moment of disobedience was no exception to this universal law of nature, and they both knew that he would not turn a blind eye on it.

John did not care to bend down and pick up the crop he had punished Roger with just moments before; he simply picked up a second, longer (and therefore more painful) one, taking a step back to have better access of Freddie’s naked body that was spread out in front of him. Without even thinking for a moment, like he had done with Roger, he let the whip crash down just as quickly he has raised it, the sound of leather smacking against human skin immediately being overpowered by the helpless cry Freddie emitted. Brian could do nothing but watch as the skin just above his left hip instantly blossomed bright red, to remind all of them of just how powerful John was with his one of his most loved items of torture.

‘You should’ve known better than that, Mercury. As if I wouldn’t notice such a violation of the rules,’ he reproved him with two more smacks at the other side of his jutting hipbone, followed by one in his thigh, before turning to Brian, who was so nervous about John’s reaction to their small but unforgivable act of rebellion that he was afraid he was going to cry if the bassist did as much as open his mouth – which John did, of course.

‘And you…’ he spat out as he stepped closer to him, pointing at him with the leather tool, making Brian wish he could back away from him. But he was already backed against the chair as much as possible, and thus couldn’t do anything when John reached out to tangle his wicked fingers through his untameable curls, his heart pounding in his chest when John pulled him closer and moved the leathery strap tantalisingly slowly along the line of his uncovered chest, causing him to shiver. ‘Let’s just say that it’s a good thing that this session is only just about to start, because there’s a lot you have to learn, young man, an awful lot.’ John then let go of him by hard-handedly pushing him back against the chair, carelessly tossing the whip towards the bed, not minding where it came down again. He turned on his heel to fetch the newly collected items and didn’t mind the paralysed guitarist any longer, who could no longer oppress a tear from running down his cheek, which he regretted right away.

Stop it, you stupid idiot, stop crying right now. No one else is crying except for you and he hasn’t even done anything to you yet. Who knows what he might do to you when he sees that you tear up like a whiny little child after just having been snapped at.

Brian wished he could move his arm – just for one time to wipe the tears away before John would turn around to face him again. But there was no possible way he would ever be able to bring up his hand, so all he could do was shake his head lightly and let the tears drip off his chin before John returned.

They had just determined that John perceived everything, so when he didn’t take notion of his tears and his red-rimmed eyes, Brian was sure he only pretended not to see it, and he was relieved that John just let him be and did not call him out for it or punished him for it. For only having done this a handful of times before, Brian could handle quite a lot of pain, but not if it was meant to humiliate him or to punish him for not being able to hide his emotions, and John knew that. Therefore, John just moved on with what he was doing, which was presenting the instruments he had just found inside the nightstand.

‘So, I think this is what we’re going to need. To start with, at least,’ John added, and Brian followed his eyes to look at the items he held in hands, and he didn’t dare to admit that he had no idea what half of them were. The cock ring was something he was familiar with, since John had used it on him before; the thin, white piece of fabric could be used for literally anything, and the item consisting of two clips being held together by a thin chain cable was something he had never seen before.

‘Stay still,’ John ordered, even though he knew Brian didn’t dare to move for the world. He stayed perfectly still in his chair, but looked away when John reached out for his dick, which was already half hard by the time he took it into his hand. ‘Getting hard already? You’re definitely new to this scene,’ John chuckled – not vindictively or mockingly this time, but something closer to endearment, as if he thought it was cute that simply getting tied up was enough to arouse Brian. The new member of their group certainly formed a huge contrast to the others, who were used to being restricted, and therefore needed way more than a simple leather strap around their arms and legs to be turned on.

Not wasting any time, John slipped the cool, metal ring around Brian’s length, having Brian shriek at the sudden feeling of being confined like that. He shortly glanced at the ring around his half-hard shaft, before facing away again, feeling like it was inappropriate to look at himself. But then again, if glancing at his own nether regions would have been unsuitable already, what was shivering in anticipation at the prospect of watching his fellow band members being flogged while mercilessly being teased himself with whatever tools John had in mind, supposed to be?

‘That’s one thing. Next up – you’re gonna be quiet this whole session. Understood?’ John ordered, and Brian first wanted to open his mouth to answer him, but then, upon realising that he was supposed to keep his mouth shut, he closed it again and just nodded at him, even though he knew there was no way he was actually gonna be able not to produce a sound once John got to work. Luckily, John had a solution for this problem – he stood up from his place in front of Brian and stretched the thin, white strip of fabric between both hands.

‘Open your mouth,’ John said, and when Brian did, he pulled the piece of cloth over his teeth and tied it around Brian’s face at the height of his mouth, depriving him of his ability to speak. John stood up again to study the results – a now even more helpless and tied-up Brian who looked at him even more humble and afraid than before. ‘Getting there, love, getting there. Just one more thing…’ he chanted to himself as he pulled out the last tool from the back pocket of his jeans.

‘Do you know what this is?’ John asked him as he let a thin, metal cable chain with the two clamps attached to it dangle in front of his face. Brian squinted his eyes as if to get a clearer vision, but he still couldn’t discover what it was. He shook his head innocently, hoping John wouldn’t slap him for his ignorance regarding his large variety of bedroom tools.

‘I thought so. You’re really prude, you know that?’ John snickered, and Brian blushed slightly, though he knew the others only found this to be very cute. They had been engaging in BDSM practices for literal years before he even discovered what they were doing behind his back, and when had recovered from the shock of finding out, they were both surprised and delighted to find that he wanted to join. The first session had consisted mainly of watching; later, he had been asked to strip out of his clothes as well and bend over the desk to receive a spanking of John’s bare hand to get an impression of what it felt like, so he could decide if it really was what he wanted. When he found out that he did, he was slowly becoming more involved in their practices – being tied up, receiving longer spankings with heavier tools than just John’s hands, and since recently, joining Freddie and Roger when they were laid down and tied up for their flog sessions. Still, John was more careful with him than with the others, but Brian enjoyed the feeling of being overpowered by someone to the core, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before John would treat him equally rough to Freddie and Roger as well. The fact that he was bringing out an unknown but probably exciting new tool was certainly a step in the right direction.

‘Nearly innocent, I would say, if I would never have heard you begging to be flogged,’ John added, only to increase Brian’s embarrassment, even though he was perfectly aware that this was the last place on earth were someone would judge him for pleading to be hurt. John reached out a hand and smoothed it over his flat chest, trailing his nails over his nipples, smiling in wicked satisfaction as he felt them tense up under his touch. He flicked his thumb over the sensitive spots again and again, until they were completely hard and oversensitive, judging by the nearly painful look on Brian’s face, before he moved his hand away to pick up the tool he had placed on the floor next to him.

‘Well, then I would now like to introduce you to something new,’ John purred at him as he opened one of the clips with his thumb- and forefinger, and suddenly, it made sense to him. Two clips. A piece of chain cable hanging between them. John extensively touching his nipples. Was whatever that thing was, supposed to be attached to his nipples?

Just a second later, it turned out that his suspicions had been right, when John brought the opened clamp up to his chest and secured one of the clips right at the place he wanted it to be at. Brian hissed through clenched teeth when the metal clamp was attached to his hardened nipple, feeling a twinge of pain rushing through his chest. It had seemed like such a small, innocent tool at first sight, but given that John’s nails raking across his sensitive chest had been pretty painful already, having his nipple systematically pinched by an iron clamp was a whole new level of torture. He involuntarily tried to move his hands as if to use them to free himself from the pain, but this only resulted in John quickly giving both hands a flick that wasn’t necessarily painful, but they certainly were admonitory enough to make Brian shriek.

‘You know that’s rather useless, love,’ John told him, his voice sounding more than just a little mocking towards Brian’s innocent and most of all fruitless attempts to get rid of the clamps by moving his hands around. After this small incident, John seemed to spend even more time on fastening the second clip onto Brian’s chest, winking wickedly at his petrified friend while placing the clamp on his nipple and then readjusting it a few times to cause the maximum amount of pain and pleasure within that specific area of Brian’s body.

‘I think that’s about it for today,’ John spoke to himself more than to anyone else as he ran his hands all over Brian’s captive body, feeling at all the restrictions to make sure they were properly attached to his slave’s body. ‘It seems like you’re not going anywhere anyway, isn’t so?’ John murmured to a speech-deprived Brian, who quickly shook his head in response. ‘That’s right,’ the bassist agreed, ‘because you know what happens when you do.’

The truth was that Brian did not know what exactly would happen if he would somehow gather enough courage to try and shift away. John moved in mysterious ways, and none of them could exactly pinpoint which action was punished – or rewarded – with which consequence. All Brian knew was that it was very dangerous and rather painful to disobey John, so therefore, he didn’t even think about going there, and he stayed sound- and motionless as John stood up from the floor again and peered around the room in which the air was vibrant with fear and trembling anticipation.

‘Well… well… well,’ John started as he leisurely began sauntering around the room, the sound of his platform heels clattering against the wooden floor echoing through the stillness of it. ‘I’m just thinking about who to start with for now. What we have here today is three practically equally disobedient slaves, which makes it particularly hard for me to decide,’ he pondered out loud, crouching down on the floor to pick up one of the crops he had thrown away only minutes ago. ‘So let me think… One of you had the courage to talk back to me when he didn’t agree with my ways of handling somebody else, which basically means breaking two rules at once,’ John said calmly, yet there was this eternal touch of disapproval and need for avenge in his voice that made all slaves shiver deep inside - and especially Roger, who knew all too well John was talking about him. The fact that John had walked over to him and was now lightly trailing the end of the leather strap along the

curve of his spine, only added up to the sensation of uncertainty and fear Brian knew he was feeling.

Luckily for Roger, but unfortunately for Freddie, John resolutely turned around to walk over to him and dangerously calmly say, ‘another one of you tried to get in touch with another slave and afterwards pretended not to have done anything.’ The crop was now moving along the line of Freddie’s hipbone, where their master had left blossoming red marks behind not too long ago. Brian could see Freddie fighting to keep a straight, neutral face, not willing to show that he was afraid of punishment, which he would have managed to do quite nicely if he hadn’t swallowed as painfully as he did. Brian could hardly bear the sight of it; the combination of tension and silence was too much, but he knew that before too long, he was going to be the one who had to endure it himself, since he hadn’t exactly been as obedient as John had wanted him to be either.

When John eventually stopped staring at Freddie and locked eyes with the guitarist instead, Brian felt like his heart literally skipped a beat. John slowly made his way over to him, and Brian hardly dared to look him in the eyes, even nor when he was forced to do so when John grabbed a handful of his messy curls and forced his face up.

‘And the last one of you failed to answer me properly and dared to react to the slave who tried to have contact with him, and with that, undermined my authority,’ John reasoned. He didn’t even need to bring out the crop and let it slip along Brian’s naked chest; just his words and his position right in front of the guitarist were enough to make Brian shudder.

‘So that brings us to the following question. Which one of these crimes is the worst?’ John asked to no one in general, turning around again, letting the tip of the crop he held in hands slide along the fingertips of his left hand. The silence in the room was unbearable, and Brian wasn’t sure if it was a normal human reaction to be happy when the sound of the crop flying through the air announced that the end of the silence was near. He closed his eyes and cringed with fear, not knowing if it was morally justifiable to feel a wave of relief when the sound of the whip connecting with flesh and bone was not followed by his own scream, but by that of Roger.

‘It’s yours, because you’re the one who started all this. You’re the one that cleared the way and made the others think it was okay to misbehave as well,’ John said, though Brian had to work hard to hear what exactly he was saying; Roger’s screams of pain and pleasure overpowered their bassist’s naturally soft voice. Not that this really mattered, though – they could all tell John was not pleased with his behaviour just by how powerfully he used the crop on Roger’s body, how he barely gave him a second to catch his breath after each slap, how often he let it crash down at the exact same spot – which Brian, though only having experienced that once or twice before, knew to be very painful. The whole event was a typical example of ‘actions speak louder than words,’ which might be the best way to describe their master once he got going in the Dungeon.

‘Fuck, master-’ Roger panted when they were all under the impression that John was finally done with him, given that he took a step back and rested the crop in the palm of his hand. The coast seemed clear at first, but they turned out to be mistaken; John returned to punish - or reward, depending on one’s definition of those words in the given context - Roger with a handful more slaps against his sore back.

‘Not when you misbehave like this, I’m afraid,’ John remarked cleverly. ‘Then again, I don’t think we’ll get to the interesting part at all if you three keep breaking rules like this,’ he said as he slowly made his way towards Freddie, who, with his arms tied to the headboard- and his feet to the footboard of the bed, couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling and quietly wait for their master to arrive at the side of the bed. Brian didn’t know if it was a good or a bad sign that John calmly sat down on the mattress next to Freddie, raking his fingernails along the insides of Freddie’s spread thighs.

‘And you, then. You’re my oldest slave, you should know that you can’t have contact with others without my permission. You’re not exactly a good example to Brian this way, darling,’ John said, bittersweetly adding the nickname Freddie would usually go around calling everyone. ‘I think I should teach you a lesson for that,’ John muttered to himself, pressing his nails in the delicate skin of Freddie’s thigh, at the exact place where he had struck him with a whip earlier, making Freddie gasp. The frontman nodded anyway for what Brian thought to be multiple causes: because he acknowledged that he had broken the rules and understood that there were consequences for this, because he didn’t want to make things worse by giving John the impression he didn’t agree with him, and, last of all, because they were here for a reason. If they didn’t want to be undressed and tied up and helplessly waiting for their master to punish them either with or without a reason, they wouldn’t have consented to being part of the Dungeon in the first place.

‘Or don’t you think you deserve punishment for leading Brian astray?’

‘Yes, Master. I deserve punishment,’ Freddie answered leisurely, his voice both obedient and the exact opposite of it at the same time. The tone was detected by John, whose fingernails digging themselves into Freddie’s hipbone again made his slave gasp.

‘Stop being so fucking coy. We all know you want this,’ John hissed, leaving Freddie with one last sharp slap against the hipbone he had just abused.

‘And you’re not a tad better, Taylor,’ John said when he strode over to the desk again. He positioned himself behind Roger and sensually scratched his nails along his back while he talked to him. ‘Look at you, getting all hot and bothered over the idea of what you could make out of Brian. If it were all up to you, you would take him under your wing, teach him exactly how to tease me and how to toe the line, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes, Master, I would,’ Roger answered dreamily, probably seeing the entire scene taking place before his eyes already.

‘But you’re not going to get there. Not on my watch, neither of you,’ John spoke dangerously. He now circled around the desk and half-crouched down at the other side so he could look at Roger’s face while he talked of what he had in mind. ‘Because guess what? Brian is sitting there, all tied up. He can’t speak, he can’t move, but he can look at you. So what I want from you is to set a good example for him. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, very clear,’ Roger agreed, but his head was pulled up by his supervisor, who grasped a handful of hair and forced him to look him in the eyes.

‘Is that clear, Blondie?’ John asked him slowly with an extra emphasis on the nickname he had given Roger, now used to make clear he had not addressed him by his proper title. For a moment Brian thought Roger had simply forgotten it, but he soon realised he had done it on purpose to get an extra opportunity to provoke his master into punishing him even more.

Licking his lips tentatively and giving John a sultry look, Roger eventually replied: ‘It is as clear as that bottle of Durex Extra Slick you bought the other week, Master.’

‘You dirty little slut,’ John reproved Roger with a smack against his left cheek. Brian could not see the expression on his face now, but he had a feeling it was one of triumph. Roger loved being slapped, spanked, humiliated in every way possible, to the extent where punishment was nothing but a reward to him.

‘As you like it, Master,’ Roger said, which earned him a slap against his other cheek. John finished it off with a fist slap colliding with Roger’s shoulder, before he leisurely walked over to the closet at the other end of the Dungeon. For a moment everything fell silent; after John opened the hard wooden cabinet doors, nothing was audible apart from the soft sound of flickering candles. It was as if everyone was too tensed to even breathe out loud, which made John’s chuckle sound all the more frightening when he eventually found what he had been looking for.

The platform heels clattered against the wooden floor until John halted his steps in the middle of the room. He emerged with a paddle and a flogger with leather straps, but these he soon put aside to the mattress on which Freddie had been tied down, and announced his plans in the darkest yet most promising voice Brian had heard him use in quite a while.

‘We’re gonna play a little game today. A little game of patience and self-control, which is something I figure the three of you might want to practice for a bit,’ John started off. ‘So, Here’s the deal. The two of you I’ll equip with a butt plug and a cock ring, just like I did with Brian. The only thing is that you’ll be given the vibrating ones.’

‘Fuck,’ Brian heard one of his fellow slaves curse under their breath at just the mention of vibrating sex toys, and he could not deny that he felt his own cock stir at the thought of it, too. Still, he realised it was probably a good thing that John had so far decided to stick with regular butt plugs for him. He knew that John had gathered quite the collection of sex toys of all sizes and varieties over the years, but he had not been familiarised to even half of them. For God’s sake, the bloody nipple rings he had been given minutes earlier had been new to him; whatever sort of anal plugs Master John had in mind for his more experienced slaves, Brian was sure they were way above his league. The simple metal butt plug he had been given was already enough to make him groan and feel like John had shoved his entire silicone cock up his ass; Brian was positive that the toys he would equip Freddie and Roger with, would be too much to handle.

Brian turned out to be more than right about not being able to keep up with whatever it was John would insert inside Freddie and Roger. When John first brought out the anal plugs he had in mind for his more senior slaves, Brian hardly recognised them as such. They looked like black spades, the ones he knew from card games he used to play with friends and families, but more elongated and with a suction cup-like underside. It was only when John talked of their usage that Brian understood for sure where they were supposed to go, and it made him thankful he had been tied up and equipped with all John had deemed necessary already.

‘These should keep you entertained for a while. The biggest I could find, and with more frequencies than any vibrator you’ve ever had before, boys.’

Roger practically drooled at the sight of the plugs John was showing them, but the provocative gaze Freddie flashed his master were enough to make John stride into his direction and settle down on the bed next to him first. Picking a bottle of lube up from the nightstand, John squirted a large amount of it on his fingers. He applied it to the toy as slowly and carefully as he could, much to increase his slave’s frustration. Not that he cared; he simply ignored the man who was restlessly writhing around on the mattress next to him while he prepared the toy for him, until eventually he decided he had had enough of Freddie’s insolence and grabbed his left hip with one hand, shoving a teasing lube-slicked finger inside of him in one rough movement. Freddie’s breath hitched in his throat, and so did Brian’s. It was such a glorious sight to see John manhandling one of them, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off Freddie’s heaving chest while their master crooked his finger inside of him.

‘Look at you. You’re already so slick you hardly need any lube,’ John commented at the state in which he found his slave, effortlessly pushing in another finger and scissoring against Freddie’s walls. His slave hissed in a combination of pain and delight, and nodded obediently at John’s words.

‘Yes, Master,’ Freddie grunted. ‘Any way you like it.’

‘Too bad I already lubed this little toy up, then. Better luck next time perhaps,’ he grinned as a whimper escaped Freddie. As if he could not hear or sense Freddie’s attempts at keeping himself together, he leisurely asked: ‘Do you perhaps want to hear some more backstory on this gorgeous new vibrator?’

‘Yesss,’ Freddie hissed. ‘Tell me all about it, Master.’

The fingers were withdrawn, and John returned to spreading a bit more lube across the blunt tip of the butt plug. ‘I bought these just a few days ago. I noticed you were getting a bit bored with the old ones, hmm?’ John asked Freddie as he coated the black toy with a new layer of transparent lube. ‘You’re the most demanding slave I’ve ever had to deal with, but this should be something new even for you. Look at this,’ he said, holding the toy up for Freddie, Brian, and Roger to see. ‘Four inches long and two inches wide. Five different speeds and modes. Silky soft and totally irresistible, according to the saleswomen, but I guess that’s up to you to decide.’

John crawled in between Freddie’s legs and roughly shoved multiple fingers inside of him to open him up for what was yet to come. His oldest slave stayed as silent as he could; he bravely clenched his teeth together, and only a bit of a yelp escaped him when John removed his fingers to instead push the black anal plug inside of him at a teasingly slow pace. Brian could see a furrow form between Freddie’s eyebrows, one which did not disappear when John, after having slicked up his entrance a bit more and having taken his time to press the new toy in, had properly nestled the butt plug inside Freddie.

‘How’s that?’ John purred at him.

‘Mmmh,’ Freddie sighed, shifting his body as much as he could despite the chains in an attempt to get used to the invader of his nether regions. ‘So fucking big…’

‘As we all know you like it best,’ John grinned, giving him a tap on the inside of his thigh, seeming careful to avoid touching the bruises he had caused him during yesterday’s session. ‘But I’m sure you’d like some movement, too.’ Before Freddie was even given the chance of replying, John reached over to switch on the vibrator, which drew a gasp from his slave.

‘Fuck, Master!’ Freddie panted. His eyes were wide open and his hands clawed at the sheets below him. Even from his position in the chair, Brian could see the look of pure bliss on Freddie’s face.

‘I knew you’d like that. But we can’t have you enjoy it too much, of course,’ John said ominously. Fishing a cock ring out of the back pocket of his tight leather trousers, John reached over to grasp Freddie’s hardening cock and pushed the cool, metal ring down his shaft. Freddie looked like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it - especially when John gave some more insight into the ‘game’ he intended to play with Roger and him. ‘Because that’s the deal for today. You two will lie here, tied up and all, with a butt plug to turn you out of your mind and a cock ring to keep you under control. Because that’s what you’re gonna need when I’ll bring out the riding crop.’

The mentioning of that particular toy certainly attracted the attention of both boys. They all knew that the riding crop was one of Freddie’s favourite items of flagellation, and whereas Roger preferred something more vicious than this, tracing the tip of a crop along the most sensitives lines of his body was his absolute weakness. Brian could not wait to discover how both men would react to the riding crop John would bring out while under pressure of vibrating butt plugs, cock rings, the heated atmosphere of the Dungeon, and the unspoken yet tangible authority of Master John that followed them with every move they made and every breath they took.

John, however, did not further expand on the game he wanted to engage in, and Freddie knew better than to press him for answers to the questions that haunted him. Brian knew for a fact that Freddie and Roger were equally - if not more - eager to find out about the particulars of the game than he was, but neither of them asked their master about it; that was, not yet. Silence filled the room when their overmatch strutted from Freddie to Roger towards carrying out the same routine on his other slave, but it was soon to be broken.

‘Well then, Taylor, time to get you ready,’ John said, one lazy finger trailing over the curve of Roger’s ass. Roger thrusted up against the touch of it as much as he could, which earned him a painful sounding smack against his pale butt cheek. It was meant to have been an admonitory spank, but it hardly surprised Brian to see it turned out to have the opposite effect on Roger. Instead of making him keep himself in check, a growl escaped Roger, and he helplessly tried to shift around in an attempt to get some friction between the desktop and his neglected cock.

Master John was not amused, and it showed in the dark glare of his eyes even more than in the blow he administered against the back of Roger’s head. ‘Stop rubbing yourself off, you slut. You’re gonna regret doing this very soon when you lose today’s game,’ John grumbled against his ear. His voice was dark and quiet, but the silence of the room allowed the rest of his slaves to overhear each and every one of his words. It left Brian all the more curious to find out what this mysterious game John intended to play with them was compromised of, but not curious enough to ask his master for clarification; an incredibly bold move which Roger undertook against all odds.

‘What’s the rest of the game, Master?’ Roger asked in a still half-panting voice, and Brian was positive he had never seen their dungeon leader as livid as he was in that exact moment. He stayed calm and collected as ever, mind you, but his eyes seemed liquid black when he went to grab the leather collar around Roger’s neck to hoist up his head. He faced a terrified yet expectant looking Roger for a number of quiet, tensed seconds, before he eventually broke the tension by clearing his throat and spitting in the pretty pale face in front of him.

‘You’ve got some nerve asking me that on a game I said was designed to test your self-control and patience,’ John growled, narrowing his eyes at the slave who continued looking at him coyly as ever. ‘You should learn to keep your mouth shut,’ John decided, and before Roger was given the opportunity of responding, John grabbed a tighter hold onto the leather collar to make sure Roger could not move away from him. The anal plug he had reserved for Roger was forced into his mouth, effectively muffling down the surprised gasps and splutters he emitted the second the toy was pushed past his lips. He soon gave in and adjusted to the new situation, though; whereas Brian was sure he would have coughed his lungs out if John had played him the same trick, Roger easily adapted to it. He obediently sucked on the vibrator as much as he could with the item forced half down his throat. The tight grip of John’s hand around his leather collar did not seem to cause any complications for him. If anything, it proved how little of a gag reflex he had.

Master John seemed to lighten up a little at the sight of his slave now obediently following his orders. ‘That’s right, get it nice and wet. This is the only prepping it’s gonna get before I’ll shove it up that tight little hole of yours,’ Master John gave away - a warning which seemed to turn on the receiver of it more than anyone else. Roger closed his eyes and let out a soft grunt that went straight to Brian’s cock. If it hadn’t been for the cock ring, Brian was sure he would have been even further gone than he already was at this moment.

‘That’s enough,’ John eventually decided, and he released the vibrator from Roger’s mouth. Roger took in a few swigs of air to make up for the lack of oxygen he had been getting while the toy had been in his mouth, and it soon turned out that this had not been a bad idea when John walked around the desk and positioned himself behind his slave for the next step of the process. He kept his word, as his slaves were used to from their master; without any preparation, without lube to slicken him or a few fingers to open him up, without even a word of warning John guided the vibrator between Roger’s ass cheeks. Steadying him with a hand on his back, Master John nudged the saliva-covered vibrator against Roger’s entrance and pressed it past the tight ring of muscles with what seemed to Brian to be a brutal amount of force.

Roger cried out in a voice that was a beautiful mixture of pain and pleasure, his entire body trembling underneath the grip his master had on him. Tears appeared in the corner of his eyes and he panted helplessly to overcome the initial shock of having the new toy ploughed up his ass quite like that, but Master John paid no heed to either of it. In fact, if anything, it seemed to encourage him to set through with his actions. While the first tears dripped off Roger’s cheeks and landed on the wooden surface of the desk he had been strapped to, John switched on the vibrator and released Roger with a painful smack against either butt cheek.

‘Well then, as you were so curious to find out about today’s game,’ John said leisurely as he stood watching Roger’s body squirming underneath the dozens of leather straps that kept him in place. Despite the tightness of the ropes, John still managed to force a hand between the curve of Roger’s hip and the desktop, and the cock ring the rest of the crew had been given, was put in place on Roger’s bod as well. John then withdrew his hand before Roger could get any benefit from its presence, and wiped the precum that had been smeared on the back of his hand off on his leather trousers before picking up his story again. ‘We’re gonna see who can keep up longest and provide the best example for our dear Brian,’ he said, flashing a sultry, nearly loving look into the direction of his youngest slave, before turning on his heel and making his way over to the wardrobe closet that had long lost its function. Brian remembered that the piece of furniture had once belonged to Freddie, but it had disappeared from his bedroom years ago when he needed ‘something bigger’ to fit his expanding wardrobe. That he would find the antique mahogany closet, now painted black and with its elegant wooden curls chafed off to be replaced with dark skulls and iron goblets, back in the sex dungeon in the basement years later, was something Brian could not have guessed upon its disappearance.

The doors made a soft clicking sound when John opened them, and Brian could not help but grasp the opportunity to try and get a view of its contents. John usually collected all the items he needed before the Dungeon session would break loose, meaning that Brian, nor the other slaves, did not get to see the extent of his collection all too often. Now, however, John had thrown both the doors completely open, which allowed Brian - and maybe Roger, if he would lift his head and focus on something else than the onslaught going on in his nether regions - to peek in.

The inside of the closet had also changed drastically; while the shelves were where Brian remembered them to be, they had been painted black like the exterior, and the doors had been clad with a sensual dark red velvet cover. The built-in clothing rack at the right side of the closet was hardly large enough to hold the dozens of coat hangers carrying corsets, catsuits, costumes, and God knew what sort of fetish clothing John owned. He had heard Freddie and Roger loved some cross-dressing every now and then, but he had unfortunately never been present during one of those activities - although he was dying to see them in those tightly laced bodices.

A panel had been applied to the space between the upper shelves, and a variety of tools hung from little iron hooks. John’s most frequently used collection of paddles and whips hung from the wall next to the closet, right there for John to grab when he needed them, but apparently their master owned a lot more than just those. Brian could detect whips, riding crops, paddles of various sizes and materials, floggers, tassel whips, leather slappers, and items he could not attach a name to for the life of him. He was also not too sure what was in the numerous boxes on the floor of the closet; he figured that was something he might find out in a later stage.

What he did recognise, of course, was the three shelves on which a large variety of dildos, butt plugs, anal beads, and other toys had been stacked out and sorted in order of size, shape, and colour. The packages of condoms, lube, and, and massage gel were neatly arranged based on brand and colour. Even in the bedroom John could not stand messiness, and he always made sure everything was proper, clean, in its assigned place, and ready to use before they’d start a new Dungeon session.

Silently captivated, Brian watched the contents of the closet as Master John inspected numerous riding crops hanging on the inside of the door in his quest for the best one for the given situation. In the meantime, he gave his slaves the final instructions for today’s Dungeon sessions. ‘Freddie and Roger will receive an equal amount of whiplashes that will build up over time. Whoever gives in and comes first, will be punished by having to suck off the rest of us while I flog them to pieces for their lack of self-control. Does everybody understand?’

‘Yes, Master,’ Brian heard Freddie and Roger agree in unison, and he quickly caught up with them.

‘Good,’ John said, more to himself than to his slaves; he nodded carefully at the riding crop he had just released from the inner side of the closet door, feeling at the leather hook that formed the finishing touch at the opposite side of the handle. He shut the door behind him and turned around to let everyone know he had selected the tool he would implement for punishment that day. Brian knew that Freddie could not see it and he was unsure if Roger had his eyes opened or closed in his frantic attempt to stop rutting into the desk below him for his own sake, but the shutting of the door was enough to have everyone know their master was ready to start.

‘Well then,’ John said, letting the crop run over the palm of his own hand. 'If anyone has just objections as to my decisions regarding this upcoming session, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.’

Brian did not know why he adored hearing this line so much. Maybe it was the serious tone of John’s voice and the phrase one would expect to hear at a wedding ceremony rather than in a sex dungeon. Maybe it was because it was the last line that drew a gap between preparation and the actual scene, as he called it in his head. Maybe it was the knowledge that the official punishment would start mere seconds away from now. Maybe it was because it made him feel a bit safer, knowing their master would always give them a chance to speak before they’d dive headlong into their game. Or maybe it was just the low, rough sound of the voice of their master, who obviously could not wait to go ahead and start - and neither could Brian.

Much to his surprise and slight annoyance however, one of his fellow slaves did speak to raise an objection. This was new to Brian; never before had any of them used this last opportunity to say something outside of the real game that was about to start. He held his breath all through while Freddie spoke.

‘Master, am I allowed to speak?’

‘You are,’ John granted him permission. Brian could swear he could see Freddie lick his lips before he spoke a sentence he must have known he’d get in trouble for.

‘I fear a certain person among us will not consider this punishment at all.’ Freddie’s voice was laced with coy and false obedience while pointing out someone John had obviously already considered himself. He was playing a dangerous game, but he soon turned out to not be the only one.

‘Why, Freddie!’ Roger’s voice was an indignant mewl in reply to the comment he correctly sensed was aimed at him. Brian was sure the drummer would have made further complains if it had not been for their master’s whip cracking down on the hard wooden frame of the bed to quiet everyone down.

‘Enough!’ John’s voice thundered in a way he only ever did inside the confinements of their dungeon. ‘For the love of God, you two can’t behave for a single second!’ A quick stride forwards, and the loop op the whip connected with Freddie’s hipbone, leaving him screaming in pain. John then merely had to turn on his heel to launch the edge of his crop through the air and have it come down on the small of Roger’s back, which drew a low groan that expressed pain as well as pleasure. ‘Did I give either of you permission for such scandalous behaviour?’

Brian found himself thinking that John had, in fact, given Freddie a green light for bringing up an objection, but decided this might not be the best idea to bring that up - not when the whip connected with the skin of Freddie’s thigh twice in a row, before it was swirled around and hit the back of Roger’s knees. The low growl was this time replaced with a whimper.

‘Answer me!’ The crop came down on Freddie’s body a few times in a row, but too quickly for Brian to make out exactly which part of him had to pay the price. ‘Were you given permission, Mercury?’

‘I wasn’t, Master,’ Freddie gasped, eyes closing and biting his tongue when a particularly hard slap across his chest made it hard for him to breathe for a few seconds.

‘And you, Taylor? Did you even ask for permission?’ John asked rhetorically, hitting the curve of Roger’s lower buttocks a handful of times.

‘I didn’t, Master… fuck, I… I didn’t,’ Roger managed between gasps of pain and enjoyment. He was obviously enjoying himself way too much, which John was determined to put an end to. Roger squealed when John pinched a small section of skin from his side between two sharp fingernails.

‘You’re in for a long, painful session if you don’t turn around this abhorrent behaviour soon,’ John growled close to his ear, his grip tightening on Roger’s skin. ‘And not in a good way, I’ll tell you that.’

‘No, Master,’ Roger squeaked.

John let go of the blond man with a final smack to his left buttock, after which he repositioned himself between the two bound men. The crop was stretched over the palm of his hand again. He seemed to be itching to put it into practice again, but had the discipline to first answer the question Freddie had posed him. His underlying attentions might have been to poke fun at Roger, but it still was a valid inquiry, and John felt obligated to answer him - but not without also using the opportunity to shame his slaves for their disobedience.

‘Impudent of you to question my decisions,’ John said with a glare towards his oldest slave. ‘And impudent of you to react to another slave without my permission.’ He allowed a few seconds of silence to let his words of disapproval sink in, and then continued when everyone in the room stayed obediently quiet. ‘I realised too that being whipped and getting to suck the rest off might not be seen as punishment either, Freddie. That’s why the loser will also have to write lines. I was a disappointment tonight because I could not control myself long enough. Five hundred times. Does that sound more like punishment to you?’

‘It does, Master,’ Freddie agreed.

‘Careful what you wish for, Bambi. You might find yourself spending hours upon hours in the study to write those lines,’ John reminded him with a small, evil smile around his lips as he leant over to squeeze Freddie’s cheek. The frontman did not budge, but Brian could tell he was uncomfortable; he always was when, after an outburst, John would suddenly come close and show a sign of mollification. It made all of them uncomfortable, really, because there was no way of knowing if John actually meant it, or if the cooing, petting, or cheek pinching was all part of the show, meant to form a bigger contrast between now and  when he would inevitably erupt in anger again.

‘Anything else?’

‘Nothing, Master,’ Freddie told him. John gave him a slow nod, did the same towards Brian - who was too frozen trying to figure out John’s intentions behind leaning over to Freddie and squeezing his cheek to react as fast as he normally would have done - and then brought up the crop for what now was going to be the first round of a serious session. No more preparations, no more toying around, no more teasing and testing - the real deal.

‘So then, boys. Everyone’s here, everyone’s in place, everyone’s silent. That comes in very handy, because here’s something I’ve been meaning to speak with you about.’ Brian felt a shudder moving up his spine at the mere slow, dangerous tone of John’s voice. He knew that all he would say from now off was usually made up for ninety percent of the time, conversation to introduce the scene of the day, but that did not prevent him from listening very carefully to John, who by now started sauntering through the space of the Dungeon, his platforms clattering on the wooden floor below.

‘We recently got a new slave to our Dungeon. Baby,’ John turned to look at Brian as he endearingly pronounced the nickname Brian was still not sure he should feel honoured or humiliated for getting. ‘Still new to the field and very shy, but a precious little thing we all love to have here. Well, not so little perhaps, but we’ll have that matter for another time.’ John grinned at him, and Brian blushed and tried to ignore the feeling of that specific not-so-little body part poking against his thigh.

‘Aren’t we all happy to have Brian here, boys?’ John asked, and received two submissive yet tentative yesses in reply. Freddie and Roger obviously had just as little idea of what this question was leading to as Brian himself, and seemed to prefer to play it safe, for which Brian could no blame them.

‘And don’t you think showing a new slave the dos and don’ts of their environment is a big part of welcoming them?’ Two yesses followed again, still as hesitant as they had been before. John seemed to notice this, too, for a frown came over his face and he took out his crop. ‘You two sound like you’re lying,’ he accused.

‘No, Master! We’re not!’ Roger told him, but it was too late and too little to save both Freddie and him from a lash against respectively their chest and their upper leg.

‘Then why do you sound like you don’t believe it yourself?’ John asked him. Roger tried to come up with a credible answer to this question, but the silence lasted too long for his master’s liking. ‘I asked you something!’

‘Yes, Master!’ Roger yelped out right in time with a lash at his shoulder blade, leaving him groaning. ‘We were not… We weren’t lying! We’ll be more responsive, I promise!’

‘Oh yeah?’ John asked, tracing the tip of his crop down Roger’s spine ever so terrifyingly slowly. ‘So what is it about teaching a new slave the dos and don’ts?’

‘Very important, Master! Very important part of welcoming a new slave to their new environment,’ Roger said, and even seemed to surprise John by reciting the statement so close to its original.

‘Very well, then. And what’s your excuse, Mercury?’ John moved over to Freddie, whom Brian could see gulping a bit painfully.

‘I have no excuses, Master, but I’ll swear I’ll be more responsive, too. Of course I think it’s very important to teach a new slave what to do and what not to do.’

‘You do?’ John asked in a voice that others would call disinterestedly, but his slaves knew better than this. It was the voice he used to indicate that they needed to convince him of their words.

‘Definitely, Master,’ Freddie said, and for what must have been one of the first times that day, Brian was now sure Freddie meant it. There was not a trace of coy or amusement to his voice, and he sounded completely sincere when he continued: ‘Being told what to do and what not to do by the proper guides is a very important part of entering a dungeon, and plays a big role in how a new slave experiences it. God knows my mentors contributed to my first BDSM experiences a great deal.’

Even Master John must have noticed the turn in his voice, but surprised them all by discarding all of Freddie’s words by bringing up one simple question.

‘So you think being guided is important for new slaves, and yet you’ve been doing nothing to guide Brian ever since he’s been here?’

Silence enveloped the room again as soon as these words left John’s mouth. It was as if everyone individually needed to process these surprising words - even though Brian realised their master’s words did not exactly come out of the blue. He had heard their bassist say that actions speak louder than words on more than one occasion in their everyday life, so it was no miracle that he applied the same ethics to their Dungeon sessions.

‘I would not say I’ve been doing nothing-’ Freddie said, but was shut up with a crop connecting with his right hip, the one that so far had remained untouched.

‘Really, you would say that?’ John spat at him. ‘Can you give me one example of what you’ve done recently for Brian in terms of properly introducing him to the way we work here?’

One of the first things Brian had learned from Freddie since entering the BDSM scene was that while normally he would always come up with a sassy answer of some sort, being put on the spot in the Dungeon was always enough to even quiet him down. At first Brian had found it to be a bit out of character for their usually snappy frontman, until he had been in his position himself. When one was tied down and under the silent threat of a riding crop and a not so silent Master John with no intentions of sparing you, one really became more careful of what one said.

‘I tried to…’ Freddie started, but soon cut himself off when he probably realised that just trying was not enough to convince Master John of his benevolence towards Brian. ‘I didn’t… didn’t…’

‘Indeed, you didn’t! You didn’t do anything to introduce him!’ John snapped at him, bringing up the crop to let it come down on the bare hip again. ‘You spoke to him without my permission and used your chance to bring up valid objections merely to mock your fellow slave! Is that what you call helping Brian out?’

‘I didn’t speak, Master, I merely lip-synced at him to be precise,’ Freddie brought up. He probably did so to make John reconsider the harsh allegations, but it only made John snap at him more.

‘So you found a new way to secretly communicate with Brian to undermine my authority. Is that what you call helping Brian out?’

‘No, Master,’ Freddie now agreed with his overmatch, knowing there was not much else he could do. For a moment he seemed to try and bring up yet something else, but eventually decided against it and went for a simple and safer: ‘Please, Master, I’m sorry.’

‘Of course you are,’ John’s voice dripped with amusement for Freddie’s helpless position. ‘You’re always sorry when it’s already too late.’ The frontman earned a few more whacks against his hipbone and thighs, before John moved over to a somewhat unexpectant Roger.

‘And what did you do for Brian? Hm?’ John demanded to hear from the drummer, who brought up his head to look at him with big, blue eyes. He obviously hadn’t considered an answer yet, while even Brian had seen it coming that John would pose him the same question as he had done to Freddie.

‘I… I listened to all your commands, Master,’ Roger tried, but was punished with the crop crashing down across his buttocks. He hissed in pain and delight.

‘Yes, you listened to my commands of being quiet and staying in your lane after you’d already broken the rules,’ John corrected him with a lash at the back of Roger’s right thigh. ‘Is that what you call proper listening?’

‘No, Master,’ Roger answered.

‘And what would you call proper listening?’ John asked.

‘Obeying all the rules without you having to repeat them for me, Master.’

‘Indeed. And has your behaviour so far today reflected that?’ John asked, the crop coming back at the exact same spot.

‘Ugh… No, it hasn’t, Master,’ Roger managed, but Brian could tell he was already starting to have trouble

‘So which example have you set for our dearest Brian?’ John asked bittersweetly.

‘A bad one, Master.’ The crop came down again.

‘And do you need punishment for that?’ A rhetorical question, but not one Roger (or any of them) would ever get tired of hearing.

‘I do… I need punishment, Master, please,’ Roger said, and whereas he before had been sounding seriously aware of his missteps and almost sincerely sorry for what he had done, his voice was now thick with desire.

‘Good. You’re self-aware at last,’ John said, and, just for good measure, concluded with a series of rapid, sharp slaps against the fullest part of Roger’s buttocks, which soon blossomed red due to the impact of the thin but solid leather hook at the tip of the crop.

John stepped back into the middle of the room again, where he was visible for everyone to see. ‘Well then, now that we’ve established that the both of you have failed to teach Brian the right manners, we can finally get around to the real punishment. Starting with you, Freddie. We’ll start with three slaps, and I need to hear three solid apologies from you for not having provided Brian with the right examples lately.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Freddie said once Master John had given him a small nod to inform him he was supposed to start the assignment he had been given. He released the crop upon Freddie’s belly when the first words had been spoken, which had the man wincing in pain but which at the same time also made hi prepare for the second round. ‘I’m sorry… I’m very sorry.’ The short sentences were both acknowledged with two sharp slaps that made Freddie swallow painfully to keep himself together.

‘You’re sorry for what?’ John asked sharply, the crop coming down again for the fourth time. This was technically not part of the three-lashes-rule, but since it was John who was in charge of the rules and how he implemented them, who were his slaves to quarrel with him by pointing them out? Especially now that Freddie’s answers had clearly not been up to standard, it seemed nothing more than logical for their master to punish him with an extra round of slaps.

‘For not having provided Brian with the right examples,’ Freddie added hastily.

‘Hm-hmm…’ John agreed, the tip of the crop travelling over Freddie’s slightly pink glowing stomach. ‘And now in one full sentence?’

‘I’m sorry for not having provided Brian with the right examples.’ Freddie repeated the full sentence twice with what seemed to be a lot of willpower and determination, for the whip coming down on the area between his belly and groin after each statement was not making it easy for him to keep his voice and his mind under control. Still, receiving one slap for every one sentence he had been imposed to repeat was not a lot, especially not when compared to what Brian expected his friends were going to have to put up with later into the session. Freddie could handle a lot more than this; it was just that logical reasoning and speaking coherently while actively being whipped had never been one of his strongest points.

‘There we go,’ John cooed. ‘That wasn’t too hard, now, was it?’

‘No, Master,’ Freddie said, chewing on the inside of his cheek when his overmatch left him to recover with two more smacks against either of his hipbones.

Moving over to stand next to the desk to which Roger had been tied, John gave his other slaves a few pats with the whip against the arms bound on his back to warm him up for what was about to come. ‘Your turn, Taylor. Apologise three times for having let Brian down.’

This time, Roger had obviously paid better attention to the scene around him. He already seemed to have come up with an apology, which he was quick to rattle out three times in a row while receiving his punishment. ‘I’m sorry for not having set the right example for Brian… I’m sorry for not having set the right example for Brian. I’m sorry… sorry for not having set the right example for Brian.’

‘Very good,’ John allowed, but Brian soon realised they should have known better than for their master to be satisfied with their performance so quickly when John added: ‘Now say it like you mean it, the both of you. Six slaps each.’

Brian found himself biting down his bottom lip when he heard John telling his slaves he needed to hear a repeat performance. He would do this a lot; he wanted to hear them on the edge of despair before he’d let them go and move on with the programme he had in mind. They could try their best to sound as obedience and sincere as they could, but only when they were desperate and practically begging for mercy would Master John be satisfied with their apologies.

Turning to Freddie first, he gave his eldest slave a nudge against his sore thing with the crop, and when Freddie was not quick enough to pick up the apologies he had been told to issue, he received two sharp slaps against this exact spot. Freddie gasped, but managed to pull himself together.

‘I’m sorry for letting Brian down by not giving him the right example!’ Freddie blurted out, quick enough to please John into only giving him the two lashes he’d been promised he’d get for each apology, without any extra sentence. ‘I’m sorry for letting Brian down! I’m sorry for letting Brian down, I’ll- I promise I’ll give him the right example from now off!’

John pursed his lips at the slightly messed up phrases Freddie uttered, and gave him an extra round of slaps for it together with the promise he’d get back to him about this once Roger had given it another try. Just the mentioning of getting ‘another try’,  which implicated the large chance of messing up and being punished and pulled through the whole apology scene again, seemed enough to make Roger tense before his master had even placed a step into his direction again.

‘I’m sorry, Master! I won’t misbehave again!’ Roger uttered as soon as he heard Master John walking towards him, which had seemed like a smart idea but turned out to have been a mistake.

‘Did I give you permission to speak yet?’ The crop clattered down across Roger’s backside eight times, once for every word of disapproval, and Roger yelped in pain. Master John really was not taking anything this evening…

‘No… No Master,’ Roger squeaked, his voice sounding choked-up when John batted he crop against his arse more often than Brian could count.

‘Apologise!’ The demand was short but just as intimidating as all the sermons John had given so far.

‘I’m sorry! For talking without- without permission!’

‘And now apologise for misbehaving in front of Brian.’

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m really sorry for misbehaving in front of Brian! I’m sorry, Brian, I’ll give you the right example from now off! I’m sorry! I promise I’ll give you the right example from now off!’ Roger blabbered incoherently. There was little left of the previously carefully studied lines, but Brian could hardly blame him. He doubted he could do any better while having John’s crop continually crashing down and being wrecked all over his ass, which was starting to turn redder and redder by the moment.

Roger was eventually let go of when he was crying tears of helplessness and humiliation and begged John to stop hitting him because he could not think straight anymore. John withdrew his crop and his fury from him then, but not without the promise that he’d be back once he’d slapped some sense back into Freddie, of whom Brian had forgotten hadn’t completed his apologies yet either.

Freddie, still splayed across the bed with his rock-hard cock against his belly, had been given enough of an intermission to pull himself together and give himself a fresh start. However, as soon as John and the torturous implement were back to haunt him again, he fell to pieces and lost his ability to form decent sentences completely. He needed to be given multiple attempts (accompanied by a sufficient amount of punishment) before he could eventually stutter out the apologies in a way that might not be described as fluent, but which seemed to carry enough audible regret to please John.

Roger, on the other hand, remained a total mess when John returned to get him to complete his apologies. Sure, he had calmed down enough to be able to speak again, but the mere clattering of John’s shoes announcing his arrival at the desk was enough to send Roger into panic again. He was a sobbing, begging mess under the power of John’s unimpressed eyes and crop, and when John eventually released him, Brian was unsure whether it was because he really was satisfied with his apologies, or because he feared Freddie would be given too much time to recover if he focussed on Roger any longer than he already had.

‘Good, those were the apologies at last,’ John huffed when he had let go of Roger, who Brian could see writhing against the desk, either in an attempt to fight off the burning pain in his body or the orgasm he knew for a fact would bring him even more adversity. ‘Not such a strong start, guys. You’d better pick it up in round two,’ John said ominously. ‘I want you to tell me how much you feel like you’ve let both Brian and me down.’

During this second part of the trial Freddie managed to pull himself together again. Taking punishment and issuing a speech on his bad decisions and feelings of guilt at the same time still was no his strongest point, but he managed surprisingly well, which Brian assumed was partly due to him having been given plenty of time to calm himself down during the intermission, and due to John taking it a bit easier than before. He gave Freddie one slap against his inner thigh after every sentence he spoke, which left the frontman a lot more time and energy to focus on getting through his own acknowledgment of having disappointed his master and having let Brian down. He did miraculously well compared to the end of the first part of apologies, and Master John was almost immediately satisfied with his speech; he only had to do over a few sentences because he had not sounded sincere and submissive enough. This remained an issue with Freddie, who, even in the midst of things, would ever completely give up his dignity, and never seemed capable of apologising out of regret as deep as that of Roger’s or Brian’s.

Because he got through the second part of his trial rather smoothly, less time remained for Roger to compose himself again. Surely, he had managed to bring the panting and squirming down to a minimum again, but his sweat-slicked body and breaking voice the moment his assignment started was all Brian needed to hear to know he was a lot further gone than Freddie was. He knew unpredictable things could happen while under the spell of Master John, but he really did have a feeling Roger was fighting a losing battle with Freddie when it came to who would hold out longest.

Now, however, he survived; panting and sobbing but pulling through the sentences he composed in acknowledgement of his shortcomings towards John and Roger. It wasn’t perfect, but it sounded ten times more sincere than anything Freddie had pulled off minutes before, and Master John granted him mercy. Not only that, but in a rare moment of mid-session comfort, John even caressed the seriously red skin of the buttocks he’d just manhandled by wrecking the crop all over it. The mere touch was enough to make Roger groan, but at least it told him was safe for just another while as John uncovered the upcoming challenge which would first be imposed on Freddie.

‘Promise me you won’t be disobedient again. One time for each year of your age, and you’ll be slapped accordingly.’

Brian chewed on the inside of his cheek when the new punishment was announced. One slap for each year of their ages would mean respectively twenty-five and twenty-eight for his friends, and while they had already endured a lot more than this during the session so far, it always did something to a slave to hear he would receive a few dozen slaps all at once. Brian could swear he saw Freddie trying hard to keep a straight face and not show his insecurity towards being able to pull off that much at once, and Roger also seemed to tense up at the mentioning of it. The drummer also must have realised he was lucky in this scenario, because he’d receive less punishment than Freddie, who was three years his senior. It might seem little, but when one was twenty slaps in, the difference between having to endure five more or eight more suddenly seemed enormous. It was for this reason that none of the slaves felt particularly happy about having their punishment be adjusted to their age, but when their master demanded it, what could they do?

John was towering over Freddie’s shaking body, and one quick nod made the frontman open up. The promises of ‘please, I won’t be disobedient again’ rolled out, silently at first but louder and more broken towards the end, when Freddie’s voice was broken and seemed on the edge of tears. This really was saying something; whereas most people seemed to think of Freddie as an overemotional drama queen, he could be hard as steel in the Dungeon, with a harshness and strength to almost match John’s. As far as Brian knew, he hardly ever cried, no matter what John did to him. This of course formed a huge contrast to Brian himself, the newbie who could sometimes tear up at the mere threat of being whipped, and Roger, who never had any problems with showing his emotions

either, and who seemed to use punishment as an outlet more than any of them.

Speaking of Roger… Master John had moved from Freddie towards Roger now that the former’s sentence had been completed, and went on to give Roger his twenty-five strikes with the crop. He was not even five slaps in when Roger had already let down whatever was left from his composure and was sobbing rather violently. Not much later he was howling out his vows of obedience, as to say so, rather than speaking them, but it turned out that it was not just the pain that caused the roughness of his voice.

‘Fuck!’ Roger groaned near the ending of the second set of ten slaps against his ass, obviously trying hard not to rub himself against the wooden surface of the desk below him. ‘Fuck, I’m so close, I’m not gonna- gonna last-’

‘Silent!’ The whip collided with the skin of Roger’s ass cheeks that had turned from pale to bright red to nearly purple over the course of the session. Roger gave a pitiful mewl, but cut himself off when John grabbed his ear and forced his head up. ‘I told you to stay silent,’ John hissed against the shell or Roger’s ear. ‘Those were nineteen. I’m gonna need to hear six more from you.’

‘But I can’t! I can’t!’ Roger whimpered. John seemed unimpressed.

‘Freddie could do it and he had to do twenty-eight,’ John reminded him. He gave one look at the slave, sweaty and tied up and completely caught up in trying not to either cry or give in to his nearing orgasm, and eventually had pity on him. Putting the hook of the whip down on the floor, he said: ‘You’ll get ten seconds to pull yourself together.’

Silence ensued, and Brian found himself nearly forgetting to breathe while counting the ten seconds in his head. It seemed to last both an eternity and the length of the blink of an eye, because the crop was back in the game before he knew it. Roger was now forced to pull himself together whether he liked to or not, whether he was able to or not; the last six promises came like broken wails rather than coherent, audible sentences, but John seemed to accept them either way. Or well… just when according to Brian’s counting the session should be over and Roger tried to catch his breath, John mercilessly released more smacks onto Roger’s already badly mistreated bottom. 

‘Master!’ Roger cried, shocked more than anything else.

John didn’t blink or budge while he explained the reason for the ten extra slaps. ‘That’s payback for the ten seconds in between.’

Ouch, that was a painful one, but not entirely unexpected. One could ask for more time, more mercy, and less punishment, but even when granted, in the end it always turned out to be a stay of execution - a more painful execution than the one Master John originally would have unleashed upon you. Unless the pain or humiliation was bad enough to use the safe word for, it really was better to bite your tongue and endure your punishment at once than to ask for favours.

When John was done with Roger, he moved over towards the middle of the room, where he shifted the crop from his right hand into his left. He stretched his fingers and then made a fist, opened up his hand again, and repeated the same movement a couple of times. Only now that his hand was not wrapped around the torture implement could Brian see how red the skin was. Of course it was nearly not as red as the colour of Roger’s buttocks or Freddie’s thighs, but dark enough to show Brian the impact of the punishment just by the colour of John’s hand. Freddie and Roger were going to be sore for quite a few days after this session, that he knew for sure.

‘The two of you are turning my hands raw just from punishing you,’ John remarked as he strode over to the headboard of the bed, where he fished a bottle of magnesium off the floor. He applied the white dusty powder to the surface of his hands rather liberally before he simply dropped it, not minding that the cylinder formed package disappeared under the bed. The smell of magnesium reminded Brian of PE classes in high school, where they’d use the same substance for activities within the range of gymnastics. He’d never thought he’d ever encounter the strange, powdery stuff after leaving school, and most certainly not in the bedroom. Then again, had he ever expected to end up in a BDSM dungeon in his life?

‘Give me three examples of things you should have taught Brian, but which you didn’t.’

During his moment of daydreaming, Brian had completely lost track on the scene around him, and was surprised to see that John had already strutted over to Freddie and was announcing the new task to him. Freddie was quick to react to it.

‘I should… should have… ah, fuck, I should have taught him it’s not okay to interact with other slaves…’ was the first example Freddie came up with, taking a bit of time to get used to the feeling of John lashing out at his ribcage this time before he replied again. ‘I should have taught him to always answer you with two words… And to never… fuck, Master! to never call you by your first name in the Dungeon! Please, let me go!’

John pursed his lips. ‘I don’t quite like the swearing part, Bambi. Try again.’

With a lot of effort Freddie managed to do as he was told, but he seemed painfully close to either losing his so far pretty tight composure (that was, he had not given in to crying yet) or to losing the competition by coming first. Brian could tell that he was closer than his voice betrayed by the strained look of his body and his pulsing dick, but he was released before either of this happened.

Roger was less lucky, however. When John came over to have him recite three examples of good behaviour he should have exposed Brian to, he soon became too caught up with trying to keep himself together rather than coming up with valid examples, which of course did not sit well with his overmatch.

‘Three examples, Roger.’ The crop came down to the lower curve of Roger’s ass thrice. ‘I’m waiting.’

‘I should- I should- I don’t know!’ Roger whined pitifully, genuinely sounding too far gone to remember his own name, let alone valid rules of behaviour he had failed to provide for Brian.

‘Of course you can,’ John said coolly, but Roger shook his head - quite the sign of obedience to Master John, which earned him a smack against the back of his knees. This was a spot he did not usually strike, unless he really wanted to show his disapproval like he did right now.

‘What was that?’ John asked for clarification of the insolent shake of the head, but Roger could not give him any explanation. He could not give him anything else besides a desperate plea to quiet.

‘Master- please, Master, stop! I’ll- I can’t hold out any longer-’

John did not budge, and the crop came down on Roger’s ass again, where it now remained.

‘What did you say, Blondie?’ John asked composedly, quite the opposite of the slave who was squirming and wriggling beneath the touch of his crop.

‘I can’t- I can’t hold out any more! Fuck, I can’t- fuck!’

John gave Roger a new round of paddling for swearing, just as he had done when Freddie had uttered the f-word a little while ago. Brian was sure it had been meant to simply be punishment before he’d continue and whip Roger’s ass until he’d listen to the commands he had been given, but things turned out a little differently than that. Roger whimpered one more time that things were getting too much, and after one more particularly stinging hard slap to his bottom, he was forced to give in. He came with a keening noise, legs straining against the restrictions and his arms trying (but of course not managing) to gain freedom from the rope with which they had been tied behind his back. The noise Roger emitted - high-pitched and sharp at first, but lowering towards a grunt once his orgasm had largely ripped through his body, made Brian wish he could close not only his eyes but also his ears. Just the sound of it would have been enough to set him off if it hadn’t been for him focussing very, very hard on his own breathing to prevent this from happening. If Roger looked good during punishment, he looked bloody glorious while he came untouched,  with that sweaty body rocking forwards as much as he could, back covered in sweat, and his face - which Brian unfortunately could not see at the moment - completely overtaken by that pretty half opened rosebud mouth and a furrow between his eyebrows. The fact that Master John stood next to him and groped his ass, the skin of which seemed raw by now, as he silently watched his youngest slave let himself go, only made the sight even hotter than it already was.

It was about a minute or so by the time Roger came down from his obviously rather overpowering orgasm, shuddering with a modest groan when the last wave of pleasure ran through his spine before he was brought back to the present. Brian could see his body going up and down in helpless pants, the side of his head resting on the desk, and softly muttering something the guitarist could not make out due to the distance - if Roger had even said something comprehensive in the first place. He estimated the chances of his to be fifty-fifty; on the one hand Roger still seemed completely absorbed in the ecstasy of just having blown his load, but on the other side it also seemed to dawn on him that he had just lost a competition and was sure to be paying the price for it.

‘Well, this sure is disappointing,’ John said in the most mocking voice Brian had heard in quite a while; one that was sure to make Roger blush if he hadn’t done so already. ‘I hope you enjoyed your little ride there, because it’s gonna be the only one for you for the upcoming week. Even with the tightest cock ring I had you couldn’t contain yourself.’ Roger received a smack to his bottom from John’s hand, which, in his current state of vulnerability - was enough to make him moan.

‘I would have you come up with examples of good behaviour you should carry out in front of Brian, but we’ll save that for later,’ John said as he started unbuckling the clasps that had Roger’s legs tied to the legs of the desk. They opened quickly under the pressure of John’s skilled and, and the bassist jerked at Roger’s arm to pull him nearer to the other edge of the desktop. Roger groaned; the feeling of his now overly sensitive dick scraping along the wooden surface must not be a very pleasant one, but much time to think about this he did not get.

‘There’ll be lots of things you’ll get to do later. You’ll first have to deal with the three of us.’ John unhooked his leather belt and let it clatter down on the floor. ‘I hope you’ve got some breath left, because you’ve got some work to do.’

The leather pants were pushed down to reveal that Master John was not wearing any underwear underneath them. It allowed John’s cock to spring free at once, but Brian did not get too much time to admire the length of their overmatch. Roger was yanked yet closer to the edge of the desk, and without a word of warning, his lips were forced apart by John’s one hand, while he used the other to guide his cock and plunge right into the warm cavity that was Roger’s mouth.

Roger seemed to try and huff out a moan, but was stopped by John giving him a quick and painful tug on his hair that told him to keep quiet while doing his job. After that, the room morphed into silence, with the only audible sounds being those of Roger’s quiet groaning and John’s sighs of delight every now and then when Roger took him right from the base. Brian almost felt too guilty and uncomfortable watching one of his fellow slaves sucking off their master, but he could not resist looking. Who could have when John threaded his fingers tightly into Roger’s messy hair and started to fuck his mouth with heedless abandon that no one else apart from their master himself was allowed to pull off?

Even though Roger seemed to be sucking like a maniac and John was thrusting himself down his slave’s throat rather forcefully, he still lasted quite a while. Brian figured it was because he had not been touched or turned on by anything besides the whipping of his slaves to this point, whereas the rest of them had been equipped with vibrators, butt plugs, nipple clamps, ropes, straps, and God knew what more to turn them on yet keep them in their place. On top of that, John always seemed to have very stable stamina, and could hold out longer than any of them. Brian supposed it was something he had trained over the years, because really, the mere sight of Roger around his dick seemed enough to Brian to come right away.

Master John lasted a number of minutes, however, and only when Roger was gasping and gagging and half in tears again in an attempt to take John down his throat as much as he could, did John eventually let go. Nails buried deeply in the skin of Roger’s shoulders, John gave in to his orgasm silently and with dignity, even in the height of pleasure never letting go of the stern look of authority he carried around in the Dungeon at all times. He kept his dick down Roger’s throat until the drummer had positively drained him, and only then did he pull back and give Roger a pat on the head for having kept up with him all that time without vomiting.

‘Quite well, Blondie. That was quite okay,’ he allowed. ‘If the new album doesn’t sell, we’ll always have you to bring in money for rent.’ Roger was still sputtering and coughing too much to reply to this highly suggestive remark, which gave John the time to pull him off the desk. His legs had already been freed before, so one quick yank was enough to make Roger land on his feet - knees, rather - on the floor next to John.

With his side turned towards Brian now rather than his back, the guitarist could finally see what Roger looked like - and that was in one word a giant mess. His pale body was shaking all over, his face was red with tension and his hair clung sloppily to his forehead. His cock had recently been limp but one could see it had started filling out again at the erotic scene of his master shoving his prick into his mouth, and his belly was sticky and white with his own cum. John seemed to notice this latter aspect, too, and glanced over to the desk, which he eyes with a somewhat scoffing smirk.

‘I’ll have you lick that clean, too, later this session. But I think Freddie is waiting for his reward now, and it’d be unfair to keep him waiting.’ John hoisted his subordinate up with one arm around Roger’s still bound ones, and dragged the half-stumbling, half-falling boy over to the bed, where the frontman was lying all tied up and ready for Roger (or anyone, for that matter) to go down on him. Roger was thrown headfirst onto the bed, and after another smack to his sore, red bottom, his head was forced down on Freddie’s groin by Master John, who obviously did not want him to catch his breath before getting at it again. Roger had lost the game and was meant to suffer, and so he would.

Captivated, breathless, and very, very horny, Brian watched as Roger got down on Freddie and swallowed him whole all in one gulp while John immediately brought out the crop against to give his backside a few burning slaps. Due to the lack of space on the bed, Roger was forced on all fours, pushing out that pretty little ass into a perfect position for John to hit him. The loud, obscene, sucking noises he made were largely overpowered by the groans - and later cries - which Freddie uttered. While usually staying relatively quiet, or at least making good attempts at doing so during flogging and whipping and other modes of punishment, Freddie never seemed afraid to let himself go once it came to actual sex in their sessions. In fact, he seemed to find delight in voicing his enthusiasm about the sexual capabilities of the other Dungeon members. He should know that this would get him into trouble later, that their master would whip him for behaving like such a needy whore for someone else than him. But right now, the loud moaning and muttered words of encouragement towards Roger were present, and they definitely told Brian Roger was still performing very well despite everything. He could hardly wait until it would be his turn to have Roger’s lips and tongue and everything more on him.

Luckily for him, Freddie had already been rather close to his release also, because it wasn’t more than a minute before he also came with a gorgeous, nearly star-struck ‘ooohhhh’ that Brian was afraid would be haunting the naughtiest of his dreams for another while. He wished he could be the one to elicit such sounds from Freddie, but and he hoped that with a little more training and experience, he’d be able to meet the other guys’ standards when it came to giving head. He was still new after all, and often at the receiving end of things as his master was easing him into daily life in the Dungeon, but he hoped to soon be seen as more than a newbie, and an actual BDSM enthusiast who’d be allowed to participate more in activities like these.

Freddie panted and cursed under his breath while he spurted out the last remains of his load, and Roger submissively swallowed it all. When Roger pulled away at last, Brian wasn’t sure whether I was him or Freddie whose breath was all ragged up. He supposed it was both of them, because the volume of it decreased but did not cease when Roger was grabbed by his arm by John, who pulled him off the bed and made him land on the floor, which effectively knocked all the breath out of his lungs for a few seconds.

‘Don’t pull this shit on me, Blondie.’ John said. ‘You’re not passing out before I’ll bloody well give you permission for it.’ This order sounded a bit far-fetched to Brian, who could hardly imagine it being within Roger’s control whether he’d stay conscious or not after having multiple men’s dicks shoved up his throat to cut off his breath circulation. John did not seem to doubt his ability to tell Roger exactly what to do, and crouched down to give the boy, who had collapsed on the floor next to his feet, a flick against his cheek. When Roger reacted to this by frowning and soon after starting to cough his lungs out again, John seemed convinced that he could handle a little more and set out to go to work again.

‘Come on, get back to work, you filthy little slut. It’s Brian’s turn,’ John said as he hauled Roger off the floor and dragged his weakened body over to the other side of the room, where Brian was still sitting in his tied-up position on the chair. His body was covered in sweat, his eyes were heavy-lidded and clouded with lust at the sheer prospect of what was going to be up next, assuming that he was going to get the same treatment as Freddie had been given. John simply pushed Roger down on his knees in front of Brian, shoving his face against Brian’s leaking erection, leaving a stain of precum on his cheek. John leant over to remove the cock ring that had been torturing Brian all along, and Brian hissed at the sheer feeling of finally being freed from the restriction, feeling his cock unfurl even more, if still possible.

‘Well? We don’t have all day,’ John snarled at Roger, who was helplessly trying to catch his breath, still seeming to be dizzy and overwhelmed from blowing Freddie just mere moments ago. Unfortunately (or fortunately maybe, regarding Roger’s preferences in the bedroom), his master didn’t allow him the time he needed to regain a regular breath circulation, and simply grabbed his long, blond hair and pressed his head down against Brian’s cock. Roger’s hot, irregular breathing around his erection made Brian even harder than he had been before, but he knew that Roger’s unusual restraint would be classified as disobedience by John.

‘Did I stutter, Taylor?’ John growled, the sheer sound of his voice in combination with the pleasurable tension making Brian shiver all over. ‘You’re going to suck him off until he’ll be screaming for release, and you’re going to do it now,’ he ordered, after which he simply pushed him down again. Brian could feel Roger struggling for a moment to take in a decent gulp of breath, before he went down on him, swallowing him whole in one go.

Brian opened his mouth to emit a helpless squeak the moment he was taken into Roger’s mouth. Despite the tension and his physical weakness after having endured dozens of whiplashes, being brutally taken from behind without any kind of preparation, and then having been forced to blow Freddie, Roger still was remarkably powerful in his task of finishing off the last candidate. He managed to close his lips tightly around Brian’s aching cock and started to suck him off vigorously, as if it was his most favourite thing in the world to do – which it probably was. Roger absolutely loved breath play, mostly when the object of suffocation wasn’t just a random sex toy, but someone’s rock hard cock, something Brian could definitely offer him right now. He was painfully hard and desperate for anyone’s touch, though he felt exceptionally lucky to have Roger, the blond angel whose actions would be considered to be anything but sacred in the eyes of society. At the moment, though, Brian was so eager that Roger’s mouth, tongue and lips on him felt like the holiest thing in the world.

‘How’s that, Brian?’ John asked him as he glanced up at him, but Brian, still being deprived of his ability to speak and on top of that being speechless by the sheer feeling of Roger’s mouth and the obscene, sucking noises he emitted around him, didn’t manage to do more than let out a helpless growl as he lulled his head from one side to the other. John smiled smugly at him as he ran a hand over Roger’s battered, sweaty back, after which he yanked him closer onto Brian with a sudden pull at his hair, making Brian yelp and Roger shut his eyes tightly as he obeyed to John’s wordless order of making Brian even harder than before, something Brian had to admit he definitely managed to do.

John, on the other hand, did not seem to agree with him. ‘Come on, Roger. I know you can do better than that,’ he said, as if he was not at all impressed by Roger’s skills regarding oral sex, even though Brian was more than paralysed by his talents. Even while having him so far down his throat that it surprised Brian that he managed to oppress the urge to spit him out and start coughing helplessly, Roger still managed to do all the right things – sucking, swallowing, running his tongue along the parts that he could touch, given that most of Brian’s length was too far down his throat to reach. His mouth was unbearably hot and soft and so immensely experienced; he must have been giving head, not to mention under pressure, many times before, Brian reckoned.

The feeling of it was amazing, but Brian couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him when he looked at Roger in his debauched position, despite knowing all too well that this was exactly what he wanted. He wished he could do something – just anything at all, really. He wished he could put his hand in Roger’s hair, say something comforting to him, move his body in any way, but he simply couldn’t. His hands were fastened to the chair, as well as his feet, his mouth was tied off by a piece of cloth. But then again, he knew he wanted to do these things more to ease his own conscience than for Roger’s consolation, given that Roger didn’t need any comfort at all. His instinct was to feel sorry for Roger now that he was forced on his knees with his cock down his throat, but he knew he needed to remind himself that this was exactly what Roger liked most – being manhandled, being pushed around, being used for the sexual satisfaction of others.

So all he could ánd should do was hum something unintelligibly while looking at Roger, who looked better than he had ever done before. Submission was a good look for him, a very good look, but that word alone wasn’t enough to describe him with right now. Now that he was stark-naked, his body that had been flogged mercilessly with multiple bedroom tools not only covered with marks and scratches but also with sweat and sperm, being forced on his sore knees with his hands bound tightly on his back, gagging and spluttering around Brian’s impressive length while being forced to stay in that position by John holding a firm grip on his sweat-soaked tresses, Brian would have described him as ‘completely at the mercy of their relentless master.’ It once became painfully clear just how much they depended on John’s decisions when the bassist suddenly released his iron grip on Roger’s hair and stood up to walk over to the bed, announcing his idea on his way there.

‘This isn’t going fast enough,’ John said. The closet door was yanked over, and a small yet much-feared tool was taken out. Brian immediately recognised it to be a hard leather cat o’nine tail, one of the most painful tools they owned. It was one he had never been flogged with since John simply didn’t think he was ready for that yet, one John would only occasionally use on Freddie when he had done something particularly forbidden, and one he would frequently use on Roger, given that he loved it most that way. He seemed to be incurably addicted to any sort of punishment as long as it brought him pain, pressure, and humiliation; if John hadn’t been experienced enough to tell when he had reached his boundaries, Roger could push himself past his already unhealthily high pain barriers. Though Brian had never been in the room while it happened, Freddie had told him that he had seen Roger passing out multiple time as a result of sleep deprivation, light-headedness, and just overall weakness after having been tied up, whipped, flogged, and God knows what more for hours, simply because he used to refuse to mark his boundaries. Instead of physically punishing him for his self-negligence,  John had once decided to ban him from the Dungeon for a whole month when it had happened, which according to Freddie had been a miracle cure.

Still, despite knowing how much Roger could handle, Brian could not believe how Roger managed not to pass out when John settled behind him to flog him most painfully. With every lash of the whip against his back, Roger was forced closer onto Brian, who panted and groaned helplessly at the feeling of Roger taking him in deeper and deeper, to the point where he felt himself bumping against the back of Roger’s throat. It was starting to get too much for Brian; the feeling of Roger’s hair brushing lightly against his naked thighs, the feeling of repeatedly sliding in- and out of the hot tightness that was Roger’s throat, the sound of helpless cries every time John lashed out at Roger, and just the overall realisation that one of his fellow slaves was being forced down on the floor in front of him to suck him off under the dark gaze of their master, made him harder than he could ever imagine being, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

‘Oh, you should see his face, Roger. You should see what you’re doing to him,’ John grinned devilishly as the whip clattered down onto the floor, after which he crouched down behind Roger. Then, without a warning, he suddenly reached around him and gripped his hardening cock, causing Roger to shriek at the unexpected movement. ‘You’ve got him all hot and bothered for you, you know that?’ John whispered throatily to Roger. Brian had to close his eyes, because the sight in front of him that consisted no longer of just Roger on his knees, but now also of John stroking his neglected but surely hard erection firmly, was simply too much for him. ‘He can hardly sit still or keep his eyes open. I bet he would have screamed and pressed you down on him if he could have. I bet he would have begged for you if he could,’ John added, and Roger moaned softly in response, just the sound of it making Brian curse under his breath. He wanted to scream, he wanted to shout, he wanted to beg Roger to please finish him off, but due to that damned piece of cloth in front of his mouth, all he could do was humming out words that turned into long, unintelligible moans as soon as they left his restricted lips, only increasing his frustration.

Though Brian had felt it coming, the actual moment of reaching his peak was still quite a shock; he still had to get used to being brought to the edge, being denied for what felt like an eternity, and then suddenly be allowed to let himself go with more than just a little help of his fellow slave, who by now was struggling to keep his lips sealed tightly around him, given that Brian was squirming around rather helplessly. All of it was new to Brian. It was shocking, and at the same time, it was so fucking hot, and Brian couldn’t oppress a helpless wail of suppressed frustration the moment he poured all he had to offer into Roger’s mouth. Roger, being obedient as Brian had never seen him before, swallowed it all under the dark gaze of their master. Without even skipping a beat, he sucked down everything Brian had to offer, which was a lot, given that it had been a long, long time of sexual frustration, which resulted in an accumulation of the inescapable urge to release. Only when he had finished his task of licking him clean, and with this, bringing Brian to the verge of tears due to his sensitiveness right after having blown his top, he eventually allowed himself to let Brian slip out of his mouth, after which he simply collapsed with a helpless groan. His whole body went limp and he rested his face against Brian’s thigh, helplessly trying to catch his breath, and he hardly reacted when John pulled him away from Brian so he could undo the buckles of the chair he was still tied to. Roger always needed a moment to come back to himself after just having been used for the sexual pleasure of others, which he was given now that John dragged him over to the middle of the room and then averted his attention to their newest pupil. Brian, following Roger’s example of trying to regain an even breath circulation, dizzily gazed at John whilst the bassist unfastened the strap around his ankles and wrists.

‘Brian. Go get ice cubes, washcloths, and a bucket of cold water. Now,’ John dismissed him, and Brian nodded in agreement as stood up dizzily, trying to retain his balance when he staggered out of the room and all the way downstairs. He had to pull the door of the fridge thrice before it finally opened due to his hands that continued to shake long after that final peak of satisfaction.

Brian fished a bucket out of the kitchen cabinet and placed it into the sink below the tap, letting it fill with cold water while he collected the rest of the items he had been sent out of the room for. It took a bit more effort than it normally would have done for Brian to shake the ice cubes out of the plastic mould and to immediately fill the now empty voids up with water, which he put back in the fridge again. Considering the amount of ice cubes they used both during- and after their infamous BDSM sessions, it was never a bad idea to build up a bit of a stock of the small lumps of ice.

Brian closed the tap just before the water was able to stream over the edge of the plastic bucket, and while holding the iron grip of the bucket in one hand, he held the pile of washcloths and the small plastic box in which he had thrown the ice cubes in the other hand. He slowly made his way upstairs, careful not to trip over his own feet. He shortly put the heavy bucket of water down in front of the door, taking a deep breath and then picking it up again and opening the door, expecting for John to already have placed Freddie and Roger down on the bed to start with aftercare right away.

Yet, when he came back to the room and was just about to put the required items down on– and next to the nightstand, he almost dropped the bucket of water at the sight of John, who was holding a pair of handcuffs in one hand, and a leather riding crop in the other. It was not the same as the one he had been using on his friends; this one did not have a leather hook, but a broader, flat surface at the end of it, one Master John had used on him before because the larger surface of the tip spread the impact of a blow more evenly. Freddie and Roger were half-lying, half-sitting on the bed behind him, waiting in anticipation and seeming to share a smile at the misunderstanding that practically dripped off the expression of the newest slave.

‘You didn’t think I was going to let you go just like that, now did you?’ John asked him in an indirect attempt to inform him of what he was about to do. ‘Without giving the others a show as well?’

Brian shook his head almost invisibly, given that he hadn’t really thought about it yet. Surely, it had crossed his mind that it strange that he hadn’t really been punished yet – not like Freddie and Roger had been – but he had figured that it was all part of John’s plan since the moment he had asked him if he liked to watch right before he tied him up. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of being punished after everything was over, and he knew realised that it was stupid not to think about this. With John as master, everything was possible.

‘Here,’ John said as he pushed the manacles into Brian’s hands. ‘Kneel down next to the desk and put these on, with the cable between a leg of the desk. Understood?’

Brian nodded softly again, not daring to look at John or anyone else in the room when he took the iron toy from him and stumbled over to the desk. He got down on his knees and opened one of the rings, manoeuvred his hand through it, and carefully pressed the rotating arm of it close until it fitted tightly around his wrist, knowing that once he had closed it, the ratchet would prevent him from opening it again without John’s help. With trembling hands, Brian closed the iron band just as tightly around his other wrist, and after that, there was nothing left for him to do but wait until John would come to release him from the tension of having to wait for punishment – and bring him the tension that the act of being punished brought along.

Brian hadn’t heard John moving, so when he suddenly felt a hand reaching out to undo the tie John had earlier knotted into the white strip of linen that had been preventing him from speaking all the while, it startled him a little, but he quickly told himself that it was okay. He knew why his master was doing this; John’s harshness and mercilessness could drive him to deliver almost unbearably painful (and at the same time also unbearably satisfying) punishments, but he would never cross the line and put them in dangerous and irresponsible situations. When he was just teasing them, he liked to deprive them of their ability to speak in order to frustrate them to no ends. But once he would bring out the whip for a good, hard flogging, he would always immediately untie the piece of cloth in front of his victim’s mouth, because he needed them to be able to call him to a halt when it was getting too much, too painful. John wasn’t the one to easily lose himself in the satisfaction of whipping one of his slaves, but he also realised that he didn’t feel what they were going through, and that he could only make an estimation of how much he thought they could handle. He therefore always insisted on leaving their mouth unrestricted, even when it came to Freddie and Roger, who often objected heavily against the safety measure. Especially Roger could handle unbelievable amounts of torture, which – unfortunately for him – only added up to John’s demand to make sure he’d be able to speak, so he could tell him when to stop by using the safe word they had appointed a long time before. It was so typically John to put safety before everything, and Brian certainly didn’t complain about this. Though he definitely enjoyed punishment, it kind of comforted his nerves to know that John was still careful with them, and especially with him as a newcomer, or, as John liked to call him, ‘his latest little plaything’.

John’s concern towards them became apparent when he crouched down next to Brian and asked him in a whisper, as if not to break the perfectly well-tensed atmosphere by being too overprotective and too meddlesome with his slaves’ preferences: ‘You know there’s a safe word, and you know you can use it any time you need it, right?’

‘Yes, master,’ Brian whispered.

‘What is it?’ John asked.

‘Citadel, master,’ Brian replied. It was the safe word Roger had chosen a long time ago and which all of them had simply adapted, both because they liked the fact that it was after a song by the Rolling Stones, and because of the meaning behind the word, which was either ‘fortified area’ of ‘safe haven,’ which seemed to fit the purpose of a safe word perfectly well.

‘Good boy,’ John said as he absent-mindedly patted Brian’s messy locks, before standing up again and stretching the whip between his hands. It was incredible to see how he could switch between being somehow caring and cautious, to completely sadistic and distant again in just a matter of seconds. Brian guessed it was a character trait all BDSM-master should possess; they had to be strict but fair, unrelenting but reasonable, brutal but calm and concentrated. They should make you shiver deep inside by just the thought of doing something that would provoke punishment, yet at the same time they should never make you feel like you were in actual danger. Masters had to know limits even better than their slaves; they had to guard them at all costs, at all times, in all situations, and Brian was glad to be able to say that John fitted into each of these requirements.

‘So Brian, since it’s unacceptable that you haven’t been flogged yet today, I think it’s about time that you meet my crop as well,’ John reasoned. Brian felt the cold, smooth edge of the lash of the riding crop slowly moving down the curve of his spine, and he shuddered all over. He knew he should be relieved to find that John was using a small whip that featured a short leash on him, but he couldn’t help still feeling that strange mixture of pain and anticipation, and at the moment, that first sentiment was what mainly had his attention.

‘How many slaps do you think our little plaything will be able to handle, boys?’ John asked his other slaves while still trailing the riding crop up and down Brian’s spine, and Brian swallowed painfully. He knew John would always rightly balance the amount of punishment he wanted to give and how much someone could actually take without breaking down. He was, however, not so sure if this was a gift either Freddie or Roger possessed.

‘I think about ten will be enough for now,’ Freddie said after having thought about the question – and after extensively having checked out the now blushing guitarist – for a moment.

‘Ten? I think we’d better triple that, at least,’ Roger reacted, and Brian was glad that he instantly receiving a poke from Freddie, so that he didn’t have to object to such a rigorous proposal himself.

‘Just because you can handle being tied up, choked, having a dildo plugged up your ass and receiving two hundred whiplashes all at the same time, doesn’t mean everyone can, dear,’ Freddie told him dryly, to which their master agreed.

‘We’ll try ten, and after that we’ll see if that’s a reasonable amount for our little one, or if he needs more,’ John decided, to which Freddie and Roger agreed, as they always did – there was no use contradicting a BDSM master anyway, in all honesty.

Brian, knowing that the punishment was going to break loose any moment now that the amount of slaps had been established and now that John seemed to be busy figuring out the best position to stand behind him while he was going to flog him, so he took in a deep breath and tried to relax as much as possible with the thought of soon being whipped to pieces lingering in the back of his mind, knowing that straining his muscles would only intensify the pain. He folded both hands around the leg of the desk to have something to dig his fingernails in once that riding crop would come down on his back, and after that, he could only hope for the best.

‘Tell me when you’re ready,’ John told him, and Brian nodded - ready to get it over with, and ready for a good round of smacks he knew would make him feel really, really good after a long and tensed session of having been tied up in a chair.

But of course, the prospect of pleasure through pain he had in mind could not save Brian from the sudden stinging pain of John’s whip crashing down right in the middle of his spine for the first time; Brian had to press his eyes shut and bite down his bottom lip in order not to cry out. He knew that he would soon lapse into helpless pleads anyway, but he wanted to stay silent throughout as much of the blows as possible, to try to show the others that he could handle being punished.

Unfortunately for him, whereas his willpower was determined not to give in to the whiplashes, both his body and mind wanted to cry out in pain already by the time the second quick but unrelenting slap against his back was delivered. Especially when the third and fourth slap were located at the exact same spot, he had to dig his teeth deeply into the tender skin of his bottom lip. By the time lash number five was carried out right between his shoulder blades Brian emitted a sound somewhat between a yelp and a howl when whiplash number eight, and was not sure if he should be comforted or scared to have John speak to him - or about him, rather.

‘See, there we go. He’s starting to get into it,’ John said with a glance towards Freddie and Roger, who were watching Brian as he was trembling under the strain and pressure when another slap was inserted against his back, after which John paused to stroke the area of burning skin his whip had just collided with. Hold on, hold on, it will soon get better, he kept telling himself, even it did not feel to him like he was going to feel better soon. The burning feeling that had spread all over his back by now was too intense to believe that it was going to fade and trade places with the pleasure he knew was going to step in at some point in the near future. Brian choked out a cry through clenched teeth, digging his fingernails into the wooden leg of the desk when the whip came down again. Luckily, it was after this seventh slap that John gave him, and during the intermission that followed when John took the time to stroke his back again that the burning feeling in his back started converting into that tingling sensation he had been waiting for all along. Brian groaned in relief, loosening his overly tight grip around the leg of the chair and closing his eyes while feeling the now indistinguishable mix of pain and pleasure starting to run through his veins.

‘You’re so pretty on your knees on the floor, Brian,’ John said, before his voice was overpowered by the howl Brian emitted as he was hit again.

‘Do you like this, Brian?’ John asked his newest slave.

‘Yes,’ Brian squeaked. ‘Yes, I love it, Master,’ he said in the smallest voice imaginable. He was afraid that John hadn’t heard him, but when his overmatch leant over to softly pat his shoulder blades to encourage his obedience, he knew the message had gotten across. Knowing that John realised he really did enjoy this and really did want to obey him, lifted a weight off his shoulders. Though he was still shy and not exactly ready to be willing to say so out loud, he absolutely loved being submissive, he loved being dominated by someone who treated him harshly and painfully like John did, he loved being dependant on the frills of somebody else’s sexual desires in order to satisfy his own needs at the same time. He loved it all, and though he knew he still had to learn a lot, he couldn’t imagine living without it now that he had discovered a world of people who enjoyed the same activities as him, especially now that he at the moment was actively being pulled through said activities.

‘You’re enjoying yourself then, Baby?’ Since it was uncommon for John to use pet names during punishment, Brian assumed John called him by the slave name he had been given upon his introduction to the Dungeon, which made him blush but at the same time also made him feel very proud. Proud to know that he was part of all this, and that his master accepted him, even with all his inexperience and awkwardness and confusion towards what he wanted himself.

‘I- I am, Master,’ he admitted, taking another slap, this time against his lower back.

‘Maybe I should add five more, in that case,’ John pondered out loud, and before Brian could either consent or complain, he had already been given three fast-paced slaps, bringing the total from nine to twelve, telling Brian that his master was determined to carry out the new sentence. Brian took a deep breath and settled with a series of low groans when the final round of punishment was put into place, his entire body shaking and covered with sweat when his master removed the whip from his sore skin after the fifteenth whack.

‘That was all. Very good.’ The whip clattered on the floor besides Brian, a final and absolute confirmation that punishment was over for him.

‘Are you okay?’ Brian felt how his master crouched down behind him and placed a hand on his so far untouched side. He nodded heavily, but at the same time buried his face in his hands and let his head hang down. To anyone else, this would have been a sign he was not doing as okay as he claimed he was doing, but John knew that this meant Brian was fine; unless he spoke out that he was the opposite, silence meant that Brin was doing okay but just needed little time to sort himself out.

‘You need a bit of time?’ John asked him just to be sure he understood his body language correctly, and Brian nodded heavily. John ruffled his hair in an attempt at comforting him, and then leapt to his feet again. He walked back to the bed to start aftercare for Freddie and Roger, giving Brian a moment to catch his breath and let the burn they all knew he was feeling after those slaps fade a little, before he would return to him to treat his sore body.

From the corners of his eyes, Brian could see John signing to his fellow slaves to lay down on the mattress, and he heard them groaning through clenched teeth when their whacked skin came in touch with the washcloths that had been soaked in ice cold water, a fate that his body would soon meet as well. But for now, he was more concerned with wiping the sweat off his forehead and the tears out of his eyes as much as possible while his hands were still tied up, and even more than that, with keeping the new tears that welled up to himself. It was not exactly uncommon for him to tear up after everything had been said and done, and his fellow slaves had also told him that it was nothing out of the ordinary to be emotional at the end of a session. The rapid follow-up of a bunch of emotions including fear, pressure, pain, pleasure, and relief that assaulted one all at once could be so unfamiliar and overpowering that even they couldn’t keep it dry at all times, let alone someone who was fairly new to the world of BDSM.

Brian kept his face down and quietly let the tears drip down his face, listening to the consoling words master John spoke while rubbing wound cream on the deep, bleeding marks the sharp tips of the cat o’nine tails had left behind on Roger’s back, bottom and thighs. It was comforting to listen to the things he said, even though they weren’t aimed at him; just hearing John speaking to them in his normal, quiet voice instead of the authoritarian one he would use during the Dungeon sessions, was enough to make Brian relax again. It was enough for him not to stress out when he hadn’t completely caught his breath or stopped crying yet by the time John stood up from the bed and knelt down in front of him.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked him quietly, and Brian sniffled, nodding softly. John, knowing Brian didn’t want to draw the attention to the fact that he was occasionally emitting quiet sobs, simply reached over to remove the nipple clamps that had been torturing his chest for the entire session, and pushed the key into the manacles to unlock them. Brian carefully shook the iron rings off his wrists, looking at the red lines they had left behind on the skin.

‘You’ve been tearing at them too much again,’ John concluded, making Brian blush a little. ‘I’ll put some cream on it,’ he added as he helped the guitarist stand up and brought him over to the bed, where he gestured for Brian to lie down on his front.

‘So, let’s have a little look at you,’ John proposed once Brian had laid down on the mattress, his eyes travelling up and down the whacked skin of his slave’s back. Brian bit down his already bleeding bottom lip when John’s fingers ran over the sore, red scratches the riding crop had left behind. His master’s touch momentarily disappeared, and Brian closed his eyes while listening to the sound of a washcloth being drenched in the bucket of water. However, Brian was soon distracted and instinctively turned his head to the left when he felt someone poking his side.

‘You did very well,’ Freddie whispered at him, but before Brian even got the chance to smile back at him, they were already interrupted by their overmatch.

‘Mercury, was I not clear the first time I punished you for establishing contact with another slave today?’ John said in that authoritarian voice of his, reminding all of them to the fact that even though the real work was over, they were still in the Dungeon. They were still playing their game, and rules were still not to be broken unless they wanted another round of punishment. And even though Brian was sure they could never really get enough of the Dungeon, their tiredness had gotten the better of them during a whole evening (and possible beginning of a night, but Brian had lost track on time in the clockless Dungeon ages ago). He therefore was glad that Freddie had decided not to pull the three of them through another session right now by making a provocative comment that would certainly trigger their master into picking up his whip again, because they all didn’t doubt that John was in for another round of flogging whenever they gave him the sign.

‘I’m sorry, Master,’ Freddie said humbly, yet with that provocative tone in his voice that was so typically him. Even when he sincerely meant it, he couldn’t help always sounding at least somewhat daring, as if he was always trying how much John would accept from him, be it intentionally or unintentionally. Luckily for him, it seemed like John was not in the mood to punish him for this smallest detail now that their session has unofficially been put an end. Instead, their master wrenched most of the water out of the washcloth, filled it with ice cubes, and sat down on the mattress next to Brian.

‘Alright Brian, here we go,’ John told him. Without another warning, he pressed the terribly cold homemade icepack against Brian’s scourged back, making his newest slave hiss through clenched teeth and clutch at the pillow beneath him. Even though he knew it was necessary, Brian was never going to love the feeling of painfully cold ice being rubbed over welts and scratches. It wasn’t the kind of pain a whiplash against a thigh would leave behind, the kind that made you cry out at first, before it changed into a pleasantly warm and throbbing sensation; it was dangerously cold, unpleasantly harsh, and felt as if it could cut right through skin and bones.

‘I know, I know it hurts, and not in a good way,’ John said in response to the painful groans that escaped Brian’s throat while the cold cloth was rubbed over his skin; his other hand he used to gently draw circles on Brian’s still naked but undamaged backside. ‘But you’re doing really, really well.’ Brian, although he was not so sure if John meant it or if he just tried to prevent another breakdown, nodded softly.

The washcloth eventually disappeared to make place for the cream John would always use to top off the physical part of aftercare, and Brian felt himself relax a little while John squirted some of the substance out of the tube. The cream might sting at first, but it eventually helped to soothe the pain and smoothed out particularly sensitive parts of his skin. The guitarist took in a deep breath while John applied a thick layer of the substance on his skin, trying to concentrate on the feeling of the pain fading to leave a warm glow behind on his back. This was the moment he had been waiting for; the moment his body would overgrow most of the stinging pain the riding crop had left behind, and start converting it into the pleasure that reminded Brian why he had agreed to let one of his friends tie his naked body up and mercilessly flog him in the presence of the rest of the band.

‘Look at that, we’re almost done. Very good,’ John praised while rubbing small circles over Brian’s shoulder blades. He had not really slapped him across the upper back more than once, but had probably decided that his newest slave could very much use a little extra attention. Brian certainly didn’t mind it, although he felt a bit immature and not at all very professional compared to Freddie and Roger now that they were trying to concentrate on their breathing to make the pain fade, while he was getting his shoulders massaged by their master.

After having finished cleaning and taking care of Brian’s mistreated back and wrists, John stored away the bucket, the washcloths, the cream and disinfecting alcohol, and brought out the ropes he was going to use to tie their hands up to the headboard of the bed. Starting at Roger, given that his youngest slave had already crossed his wrists over each other above his head, John continued to tie them up for the night.

‘Is everybody okay?’ he asked while checking the tightness of the rope around Roger’s wrists, receiving a few sincere but softly-spoken agreements that made him snicker for a bit. ‘I believe you’re all tired, aren’t you?’

‘I’m not tired,’ Roger brought in, sounding slightly indignantly by his master’s assumption.

‘Of course you’re not. I can never silence you for longer than three minutes unless I push my cock down your throat,’ John reminded him, giving Roger’s bruised thigh a painfully hard squeeze. ‘Which I’m not going to do right now, because you should go to sleep,’ the bassist added right away in order not to get up the hopes of his most submissive and at the same time most provocative slave.

‘We shouldn’t be sleeping already, we should still be watching Brian getting flogged,’ Roger spluttered. ‘I still think you should’ve tripled his sentence.’

John, who was now reaching over to restrict Freddie in the exact same way, only had to take one glance at the blush on Brian’s cheeks to decide that Roger needed to get his face slapped for making their newest acquisition feel this awkward. ‘I’ll triple your sentence, you insufferable meddler,’ John growled when he had made sure the colour on Roger’s cheeks matched that of Brian’s, though not by shame, but by the force of a powerful flat hand.

‘Please do so, Master,’ Roger answered. He only seemed to enjoy the extra punishment, as could have been expected.

‘I should have known you would’ve liked that,’ John rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll cut your sentence in half instead next time, and double your lines. Maybe that’ll teach you,’ he threatened, making Roger grimace. Satisfied by his impudent slave now being silenced, John moved on to Brian to help him shift to his side and tie up his hands with more patience and carefulness than with the other two, given that Brian was new to being tied up before bedtime, and because his wrists were still sore from the iron handcuffs. Brian watched the movements of John’s hands in a state of nervousness. He did not wish to complain about anything his master did to him, but he silently prayed John would not be too hard on him. John either saw the look in his eyes or instinctively felt that he needed to go soft on Brian, but he left the manacles so loosely around Brian’s wrists that Brian felt like it would be possible for him to shake them loose if he wished - which turned out to be exactly John’s intentions.

‘We’ll leave it like this tonight. If your wrists start becoming too painful, you can free them. I don't mind,’ he added when Brian looked at him timidly. Understanding that Brian probably needed more encouragement and a word of approval after his most intense Dungeon session so far, John stroke the palm of his hand and leant in to press his lips against Brian’s tousled, sweaty curls.

‘You’ve been very brave tonight. I hope I wasn’t too hard on you,’ John spoke.

‘You weren’t, Master,’ Brian was quick to reply - not only because he did not want to be disobedient, but because he truly found himself agreeing with the level at which John had been punishing him. It had been harsh at times, sure, and somewhere around slap number thirty-eight he had been on the brink of shouting the safe-word, but now that all had been said and done, Brian could come to no other conclusion that every moment of it had been perfect. It was as if John knew his preferences and limits even better than he did himself, and for this reason he could do nothing else but trust John in everything he said and did in their game.

‘You’ve been very brave,’ John said with one more run through Brian’s hair, after which he stood up and pulled a blanket over his naked body. ‘We’re all very proud of you,’ he concluded, his stern face showing through a slight smile when Brian timidly smiled at him and snuggled closer into the blanket.

This moment of encouragement and approval clearly had been meant for Brian only, because the moment John stood up from his newest slave’s side of the bed, he cleared his throat to make sure his voice would be authoritarian as ever when he spoke.

‘Right, folks, absolute silence from now of. I don’t want to hear another word until I come to wake you up again in a few hours,’ he said, indirectly telling them that he was not done with them yet, which was not exactly shocking to Brian. He knew master John liked to pause between each torture session, to pick up the game once they had recovered – that was, recovered enough to be flung back into their sex game again for whatever would remain of the night from that point off.

The lights in the room dimmed, the silence was immediately implemented, and Brian brought up his head a little to look at John as he walked off to the hallway, until he could only see the shadow of his appearance on the walls. It was then that he decided that he didn’t mind going to be roughly awoken from his sleep within a few hours again; he was sure he spoke on behalf of all of them if he said that they would follow their master everywhere, through all his frills and through all his quirks. Because no matter how badly everything might have hurt, no matter how tired and worn out they were, at the end of the day, when everything had been said and done, they knew the Dungeon had made them closer than they could ever imagine being, which was a feeling they wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
